


Be mine

by captainhurricane



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Abusive relationship (NOT Shiro/Keith), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternative Universe - Neighbours, Anxiety, Chronic Pain, Fluff, Gay Keith (Voltron), M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Minor Keith/Lotor, Oh No He's Hot, POV Shiro (Voltron), Pansexual Shiro (Voltron), Pining, Post-it Notes, Scars, Sexual Tension, Shiro deserves nice things, Strangers to Lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-06
Updated: 2017-08-12
Packaged: 2018-12-12 00:14:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 23,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11725509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captainhurricane/pseuds/captainhurricane
Summary: You know the story: a guy moves to a new city to start a new job. A guy meets a guy. A guy falls in love with a guy.In this case, the guy is one Takashi Shirogane, scarred inside and out but with a bigger heart than most and theotherguy is Keith Kogane, a little scarred on the inside and more friendless than he would like. Neither was looking for love: Shiro mostly because he thought he didn't need it and Keith mostly because he thought he already had it.But love can't be ordered around. It comes when it wants to come.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> my insp for this were these two AU prompts: 
> 
> x I drunkenly tried to fight you and knocked myself out but you were kind enough to take care of me till I woke up.”  
> x A keeps getting B’s mail. 
> 
> also I always seem to write from Keith's POV so here's some Shiro-pov for once

If it weren’t for the formidable sister-brother-duo who pose as Shiro’s best friends, he would certainly not be sitting by a bar counter on a busy Friday-night. He should be either sleeping or unpacking his numerous boxes or just generally taking in the sights of the new city but no. Neither Matt or Pidge had listened to any half-hearted protests and had insisted that Shiro join them in taking in the sights of the city’s bars.

 _It will be fun,_ they said.

 _You don’t even like bars, Pidge,_ Shiro had tried but she had squinted up at him and he had sighed.

_Fine._

So here he is now, nursing his third beer and hiding his smiles at the sight of Matt and Pidge on the dancefloor: the latter’s glasses a little crooked, the former’s hair ruffled but they seem to be having fun. Shiro had promptly refused to join them: he had insisted that neither his balance or his sense of rhythm had resurfaced after the accident that had nearly sliced his right arm off so the siblings had left him be.

They had made sure he had at least one drink.

So here he is. Watching them, chuckling to himself and only moving from his seat when others, way more drunken bar-hoppers slide towards the counter and the two ruffled-looking bartenders behind it. One of those bar-hoppers nearly slips- either on his own feet or the slippery floor- and Shiro’s hand shoots out, grabbing a bare arm.

“You okay?” He gives the stranger a gentle nudge to help them stand.

The stranger appears to be a man, maybe around Shiro’s own age and the kind of pretty that does funny things to Shiro’s insides.

The stranger squints.

“Get ya hand off me, weirdo,” he huffs and pulls his arm free.

Shiro stands, hands raised a little. “Sorry. I didn’t want you to fall and bang your head.”

The stranger squints harder, the expression made fiercer by the eyeliner surrounding his interesting dark eyes. “Whatever man, just don’t touch me. I’m here with my boyfriend.” The stranger’s tongue seems to want to co-operate a little after a moment of swaying and squinting: he nudges his way past Shiro to the counter and whistles.

“Heyyy, Acxa, you look busy!”

Shiro empties his beer, carefully nudges it past the drunken man to the counter. He briefly wonders if he should just leave.

One of the two bartenders: the lady with blue hair and assassin’s eyes squints.

“Oh fuck,” she says. “You’re one sip away from vomiting over this counter, Kogane. Go home.”

The man- Kogane, apparently- scoffs. “I’m fine! I’ve got Lo somewhere. Somewhere here.” He waves a hand behind himself, probably meaning to indicate the entirety of the bar but only ends up almost hitting Shiro in the eye.

“Um,” Shiro starts.

“Another beer for you, newcomer?” The bartender- Acxa- glances over the drunken Kogane’s shoulder at Shiro.

Shiro smacks his mouth. “Nah, I think I’m gonna head home. Uh-“

“But I’m not drunk enough,” Kogane whines, loudly enough to be noticed, loudly enough to make Acxa’s teeth grit visibly and Shiro hide a grin behind his hand. If it wasn’t for the aforementioned boyfriend and the fact that the guy is barely sober enough to stand upright, Shiro would have probably found him cute enough to take home.

Not that he takes people home. Not since… things happened. He carefully tugs his sleeve lower over his scarred hand.

“You’re very much drunk enough,” Acxa huffs and slips away to a group of giggling twenty-somethings.

“Fuck her, man,” Kogane whines again and sways, his knees visibly shivering. He tries to turn, ends up stumbling over his own- impossibly long and clad in uncomfortable-looking pants- legs.

Shiro, before he can help it, shifts onwards to grab him before he falls. “Do you have anyone who could take you home, buddy? You’re gonna hurt yourself at this –“ he barely has time to dodge a fist aimed somewhere towards his face.

“Told you not to touch, dumb, dumbass.” Kogane wheezes, his cheeks blazing red, his dark eyes wide. “It ain’t right.”

Shiro sighs. “Alright, alright. Sorry. I was just-“

“Don’t need your help! Not your stupid face’s help. Or your stupidly muscular arms’ help. Nah. No way.” Kogane inhales, a little rough. At a closer look he does look a little rough: what Shiro initially thought was just make-up or alcohol’s remaining tracs is clearly traces of the same thing Shiro suffers from aka imsomnia.

“I don’t wanna step on any toes here, buddy,” Shiro murmurs. “But you really do look like you’re in need of a good night’s sleep. Can I at least call you a taxi?”

“Fffffffffff,” says Kogane, swaying even more. Before Shiro can protest or prevent the oncoming disaster, Kogane’s fist has swung.

It doesn’t hit Shiro. It doesn’t hit anywhere near Shiro. Instead the poor, drunken idiot hits himself straight in the face.

“Damn,” Shiro manages before he gets an armful of dizzy, half-unconscious drunken bastard, all sweaty and lean. “Damn,” he says again when he tries to nudge Kogane. But the man is out like a light. “Dammit,” Shiro says for the third time, like it would help this situation in anyway. But he only either gets pitying looks or laughter and no friend in sight.

He even tries to flag down the bartender Acxa but she’s knee-deep in orders and cocktails and looks like she’ll spontaneously combust if he so much as breathes wrong in her direction so Shiro leaves her be.

He does try to wake Kogane up but the man seems insist on snuggling closer, having drifted off to alcohol-induced sleep. 

He tries to carefully pat Kogane’s pockets for a phone, for anything but only finds a phone gone black and a number for the cloak room.

Shiro digs out his own phone and taps a message to both Matt and Pidge for good measure- at least he can trust neither of them getting too drunk to be unable to function. He just hopes they trust him to be able to make his way home in a new town with new people and new streets.

With a deep, resigned sigh, cheeks flushed at the sight they make, Shiro gathers Kogane in his arms and carries him out of the bar and into the chill of November.

Goddammit, the look the doorman had given him when he had asked who Kogane came with. Bro, if I remembered every single face that always comes here, I’d be fucking amazing. This dude comes by himself a lot and never leaves without someone but I think this is the first time I’ve seen him being carried away. The snickers that had followed from the doormen had made Shiro’s skin crawl. He had thanked them and made his way to the nearest taxi-stop that had thankfully only been a block away.

His poor biceps had been screaming by the time he had managed to find a taxi not occupied. It had taken some explaining, some more nudging- Kogane had apparently decided to slip off into a proper Sleeping Beauty-dream- to get them on the road to Shiro’s apartment.

This isn’t quite like Shiro had imagined his first day in this city to go.

Sure, he could have imagined meeting an interesting, beautiful stranger but not quite like this. Shiro shifts to look at his dozing companion and grimaces at the sight of a blooming bruise on the man’s face.

“Sorry,” he whispers.

Kogane grumbles in his sleep, a strand falling on his forehead from the messy ponytail he’d been wearing. Shiro bites back the urge to tuck it back.

He doesn’t quite manage to stifle the guilt though. Kogane’s boyfriend would no doubt be wondering where he is.

Shiro sighs and hides his face behind his hands. He’s in for a long night. Thank God his sofa had come with the apartment and he had unboxed his bed with most of his sheets: certain that he could have gotten himself an early night before the Holt siblings had dragged him out.

Shiro just hopes Kogane won’t wake up angry.

*

The sofa isn’t quite wide enough to accommodate Shiro and something keeps digging into his back so he doesn’t manage to fall asleep until the sun had already risen.

He’d left Kogane on his bed, had carefully pulled off the man’s shoes and his jacket but hadn’t dared to touch him otherwise, remembering slurred words, poking fingers and flushed cheeks. Shiro had left a packet of aspirin and a glass of water on the night table, hoping Kogane’s awakening would be somewhat more pleasant with it.

Shiro had even made sure not a shred of sunshine can peek through his curtains and had closed off his bedroom-door tightly.

He begins to worry for his involuntary houseguest by the time he’s watched five episodes of some reality show’s reruns and eaten a breakfast and drank his morning cappuccino from his shiny new coffee machine. Shiro fidgets on the sofa, beginning a new episode but his mind’s not into it.

Has the man suffocated in his sleep? What if the man had suffocated in his sleep? What if he-

The door creaks.

Shiro turns so fast his neck nearly cracks.

“I’m- I’m not home, am I,” says Kogane, squinting at the sunlight and Shiro and the opened TV. Kogane is monumentally less fierce like this: with eyeliner smudged around his eyes, his ponytail mostly nothing but a mess of pitch-black hair and what’s clearly a crease from a pillow. He’s also holding a now empty water glass. He’s also sporting a rather painful-looking black eye.

“Uh,” Shiro starts to say. He clears his throat and gets up. “Okay, look. You kinda knocked yourself out-“

_“What-“_

“And your phone was dead and I didn’t know what else to do so I took you home-“

Kogane looks a little green.

Shiro drags his fingers through his hair, lets his fringe drop back down. “I didn’t touch you, I just took off your shoes. I’m really sorry. But you were almost unconscious and I had no idea what else to do. And your bartender-friend was ignoring me.”

Kogane hums.

Shiro tries not to find him awfully cute and massively fails.

“Okay,” Kogane says. He steps closer, pushes the glass into Shiro’s hands. “Where’s your bathroom?”

“Um,” Shiro says again, pointing behind him to the white door adorned with a Freddy Krueger-poster. “If you want to take a shower, feel free. I’ll drive you home when you feel like it. I don’t start work until Monday.”

“Cool,” Kogane says. “First I think I’m gonna vomit though.”

Shiro blinks, watches his house guest take hurried steps to the bathroom, yank its door open and- Shiro grimaces.

It’s not his place to judge so he stills his tongue and instead goes to the kitchen to work on some of his hangover-remedies. Even his own head is aching a bit and he only drank three beers. God knows what amount of alcohol Kogane had been downing to be barely able to stand so his head has to be pounding.

Shiro listens to the shower turn on and very sternly focuses on making some more eggs.

He carefully offers them to Kogane who appears out of his shower in yesterday’s wrinkly and probably awful-smelling clothes but with make-up free face and hair damp and free. It falls down to Kogane’s shoulders. He takes a seat and actually eats Shiro’s offerings but refuses his tea and instead asks for coffee.

Shiro makes it.

“I don’t know how you take it,” he says and pushes a cup of black coffee over the puny kitchen table.

Kogane shrugs. “I take it every way,” he says and the flash of a smirk makes Shiro cough into his hand.

“That’s good. Good. Where do you live? Do you want that ride?” The very tips of Shiro’s cheekbones- very good ones, if his former girlfriend and his current friends are to be believed- feel a little hot.

Kogane shrugs again. He tells Shiro his address.

Shiro stills. Then he snorts.

Kogane raises an eyebrow behind a curtain of dark hair.

“You live next door,” Shiro says.

Kogane, who seems quite a little more amiable to human interaction now that he’s sober, fed and probably way less headachey than before, blinks. “Huh. What a coincidence. Good luck for me though. And you that you don’t have to drag a stranger halfway across the city.” He lowers his utensils to his plate and squints at Shiro. “So you’re the one who moved in. This apartment’s been empty for forever since old man Al died. I wondered who was gonna move in.”

“Well. Now you’ve met me,” Shiro says.

“So I have.” Kogane scratches his temple. “Also I seem to recall I kinda, uh, yelled at you last night. Sorry. I tend to be what the people call an aggressive drunk but I have no recollection whatsoever why I got that drunk. I usually just doze off after like one cocktail.”

“You were pretty drunk,” Shiro says, only half-aware how soft his tone had gotten. “I’m glad you seem to be feeling fine, though.”

Kogane shrugs. “Hangover’s a bitch.” Then he freezes. “Oh shit- Lo’s gotta be worried, oh fuck, well, good to meet you, uh-“

Shiro stands up when Kogane does. “It’s Shiro. Well, Takashi Shirogane but I have pretty much never been called that so- just Shiro.”

Kogane’s dark, dark eyes narrow. Just a bit. “Keith Kogane. I gotta run but I guess we’ll be seeing each other.” He smirks. Shiro raises an eyebrow. His fingertips tingle. He only says a halfhearted bye when Kogane- no, Keith- stumbles away from his apartment, the unmistakable tingle of keys echoing in the spacey hallway.

“Huh,” Shiro says to himself. He stares at Keith’s forgotten plate of food and only then remembers that maybe he should have asked if Keith remembered punching his own lights out.


	2. I'm not looking for love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Shiro has a run-in with Keith's boyfriend, chats with his parents and meets Keith again. And doesn't find himself with a crush. Nope. Not at all. No matter how goddamn pretty Keith is with his perfect hair and perfect face and perfect everything.

Shiro’s Saturday passes with all the speed of a dying sloth. He goes for a walk, opting out of a jog when old pains remind him of their existence and his knee stops being co-operative. He does his daily stretches in the park a few blocks away and watches how his breathing fogs up in front of him. He inhales a few lungfuls of chilly air and smiles.

He did a good thing moving here. There hadn’t been a park in the walking distance: not one this large at least. Shiro can already imagine how beautiful it’s going to be during the summer: is already making plans for a picnic or a taiji lesson. He’ll arrange one himself if needed. God knows he’s going to need the relaxation.

For now his walks and jogs will do.

He does a few more stretches and tests his knee.

“You gonna co-operate with me now, are you?”

The knee, obviously, doesn’t answer. It doesn’t twinge with familiar pains either but Shiro still walks back home.

He orders take-away. He lays in front of his newly unpacked TV. He texts a bit with Pidge who sends a few selfies of herself making faces at her hangover brother. Shiro tells her to be nice. She tells him to shove it and in the same breath hopes he had a nice time.

Shiro doesn’t tell her about Keith. He just knows she’d find it hilarious and then he’d never hear the end of it: especially since they’re going to be co-workers and probably stuck in cubicles right next to each other.

Shiro unpacks a few more boxes but his mind ends up drifting. He glances at the clock. It’s still the middle of the day. He could have sworn it was at least afternoon.

He paces. He thinks. He irons his shirt for Monday and hangs it up properly.  He finally decides to make a grocery-list and go shopping since there is only the echo in his fridge. Of course, there are those weird vegetable-things that the Holts had brought with them when they had helped him move but they look a little suspicious so Shiro hadn’t dared to touch them yet.

So he dresses once more and brings up the list of closest grocery stores on his phone, humming to himself as he locks the door and heads for the elevator. He pats his pockets for his wallet and keys and straightens when the elevator pings.

“Oh, sorry-“ he says when he nearly collides with who’s stepping out of the elevator.

“Watch it, big guy,” huffs the stranger. Shiro’s eyebrow lifts at the sight of him: not that he can judge anyone for looking unconventional but long white hair on anyone is intriguing.

“Sorry,” Shiro says again. White hair lifts an eyebrow, infinitely more sarcastically than Shiro’s ever managed.

“What are you, Canadian?” The guy says and before Shiro can reply, the guy’s stepped towards Shiro’s apartment. No, towards- _oh._ Keith’s door. Number 413. Of course.

The elevator-doors close and hide the guy from Shiro’s inquiring gaze. Maybe that was the boyfriend Keith had talked about. Do they live together? Is it really any of Shiro’s business?

He sighs. _What am I doing?_

He puts Keith- and his long legs and smirks- out of his mind with the same single-minded determination that had gotten him through numerous hard spots in his life and leaves his building with a steady step. He does his grocery shopping and hopes his often unco-operative scarred arm won’t suddenly spasm when he’s dragging his bags home.

He manages.

Saturday drags on. He wonders how thin his walls are. So far his neighbours have all been almost frighteningly quiet- compared to the student apartments and apartment complexes he’s lived in before. It almost reminds him of his childhood home back in Chiba.

His landlady had said this building is generally pretty quiet though- oh. Is that coming from Keith’s apartment? Shiro turns down the volume of his TV and tilts his head. Turns on the sofa even towards the wall separating him and Keith’s place.

It’s just the faintest melody, something jazzy.

_What am I doing?_

Shiro turns back to his TV and turns the volume higher. Keith or his lanky boyfriend can listen to whatever they want. It’s none of Shiro’s business.

*

On a bright Sunday-morning Shiro Skypes with his parents: it’s an early morning for him and a little late for them but this will have to do.

                             Neither Kimiko or Tetsuya Shirogane are quite as adept as him with technology, but neither had been eager to let him go to the other side of the world without some form of communication. So a computer it has to be as their phone calls might have ended up being too long.

Especially with how long Shiro’s mother can talk, bless her.

 _“You’re settling in?”_ She asks, a familiar frown on her face as she peers through the screen at him. Shiro had set his laptop on his kitchen counter so they can watch him make breakfast. Damn, but he’s missed hearing Japanese.

“Perfectly,” he says and smiles at them. They’re sitting side by side, in the living room from the looks of it and the sight of them incites an incredible amount of homesickness even now.

 _“Good, good. We rented out your room, you know,”_ Tetsuya says. He runs his hand through his fully grey hair, a nervous tic that Shiro had inherited.

“I know. You told me you would,” Shiro reminds them gently and chops a few more bell peppers into neat slices for his morning omelette. He bites back a wince when ache shoots from his less functional hand.

His parents, of course, catch it.

_“It still aches?”_

“It will ache for the rest of my life,” Shiro murmurs. “Nothing much that can be done for an effed up nervous system, mom.” He places his bell peppers in the pan. They start to gently shizzle.

 _“Oh, my boy,”_ Kimiko says.

 _“We’re glad you seem otherwise healthy though,”_ Tetsuya says. One glance tells Shiro that his father is once more running his fingers through his hair.

“I am. I’m taking my meds. I’m going to find the closest, cheapest gym too, gotta keep up with my workout schedule,” Shiro says and moves the laptop so his parents can still see him from the counter. He tells them of the park. He tells them of his anxiety over starting his job: at least it won’t be more than three times a week as his health isn’t quite as it was before and he won’t be losing his disability benefits.

They assure him he’s going to do good like always.

“I also met my first neighbour,” Shiro says after his parents have told them about the comings and goings in Chiba and inquired when Shiro is going to come back to visit them.

 _“Were they nice?”_ His mother is squinting. Tetsuya has already risen to answer the phone.

Shiro can’t help but smile, thinking about Keith sitting by his kitchen table and chewing on eggs. “Yeah. He’s about my age, I think. Also his surname is Kogane. But he doesn’t have an accent like me.”

 _“I bet he likes your accent, sweetie,”_ Kimiko says. There is a glint in her eye when Shiro turns to look at her.

“Mom-“

_“Is this person cute?”_

Shiro snorts. “Don’t even start. He’s taken. I even met the boyfriend yesterday.”

Kimiko huffs. _“Too bad. Your face just went a little soft there, just like whenever you have a crush. Don’t blame your poor old mother for wanting to see some love in her only child’s life.”_

Shiro makes a face and rebelliously turns his back to her. “I have love!”

_“Where?”_

Shiro rolls his eyes. “It’s called having friends, mom. And I have you and dad. And I could… you know. One night stands. If I wanted.”

This time Kimiko laughs out loud, the sound igniting an automatic chuckle from Shiro. He turns to look at her. Kimiko is leaning closer to the screen, eyes narrowed _. “Like you’re the type to love ‘em and leave ‘em, son of mine. Remember, I’ve seen the kind of girls and guys you’ve shagged up with before-“_

“Mom!”

_“-nobody’s good enough for you in my opinion but I trust you. To make good choices.”_

Shiro smiles. “I always make good choices,” he says gently.

 _“Well, when you find love in some stranger’s arms, at least remember to use a condom,”_ Kimiko says.

Shiro snorts. “You gave me my first sex talk when I was eleven and traumatized me for life. I’ve carried a packet in my wallet ever since I was a teenager.”

 _“Good,”_ Kimiko says and smiles.

Shiro smiles back. “You’re ridiculous.”

 _“Love you too,”_ she says _. “You’ll tell me and your father if and when you need something, yes?”_

Reflexively Shiro’s left hand lifts to brush his right. Although the sleeve is long and fabric thick, Shiro still knows where his scars run. Maybe his mother sees the twitch of his lips because she tells him she loves him again.

“I love you too, mom,” he says and sends her a flying kiss. “I’m okay. Really. I’m really looking forward to work and spending more time with my friends. And getting new ones, obviously.”

_“Obviously. Good. That’s good. Wait a bit, here’s your father-“_

Tetsuya slips into the picture with Kimiko. Shiro lets his vegetables simmer on the pan and sits by the counter.

 _“I think your mother already told you we worry and we love you,”_ Tetsuya says.

Shiro nods.

 _“Good,”_ says Tetsuya. _“Send us a message when you’re coming home for Christmas, yes?”_

“Of course. I’m gonna have to continue cooking for now. Talk to you two sometime later.” Shiro sends them another flying kiss. Kimiko pretends to catch it. Tetsuya merely smiles one of his rare smiles.

 _“Have a good day, Takashi,”_ Kimiko says.

 _“We look forward to talking with you again,”_ Tetsuya says.

“Have a good evening, you two. Make good choices,” Shiro says gently and waves. They wave back. The connection shuts off almost instantly: the moment of silence that follows leaves Shiro a little breathless. He takes a moment to breathe.

It’s fine. It’s all going to be fine. He’s been living away from Japan and his parents for the past decade. Still- to know that they still love and worry about him. To know that their initial arguments about his life choices have long since been forgotten and forgiven. Then again, getting into a near-fatal car accident had made all three of them closer.

For that, Shiro doesn’t quite mind losing a lot of his previous mobility. So long, his budding career as a personal trainer and welcome, neat indoors office job.

“If I lose you, I’m gonna miss you a bit,” Shiro huffs and pokes his abs. He had worked hard for the body he had used to have and losing it even a little is a little grating.

But he manages, like he’s always done.

The rest of his Sunday passes by in peace. He hears the door click in the hallway. He hears someone’s heel click against the hard floor. The thrum of the building’s elevator nearly makes his walls vibrate.

Slowly, but surely Shiro breathes a little easier in this new space. Especially since he puts up a few family photographs, unable to stop himself from smiling at the sight of himself: much tinier, before parts of his hair had started to lose its black colour and way before the accident. Then there are the numerous pictures from his days in college, a couple of snaps even featuring an ex: the only one with whom the relationship had lasted more than a month. She had been so nice. But she had been before the accident, like most things in Shiro’s life. Idly he wonders if he should try to contact her more often: they occasionally message on Facebook but she’s halfway into a marriage and a baby by now so they had ended up as nothing but casual acquaintances.

Oh well. Nothing Shiro can do about that failure now. So he lives her be amongst the other pictures on his wall and goes on with his day.

Monday dawns as all Mondays do: unwanted and inevitable. Shiro already feels the first jitters of both excitement and nerves- often mistaken for the same thing- as he gets up to do his morning routine. Clothes? Check. Teeth brushed? Check. Breakfast eaten? Check. Morning meds? Check. Phone fully charged, extra charger in his bag? Check.

He paces for a few seconds, takes a breather, makes himself another cappuccino. It wouldn’t do to be too early: from what Pidge’s told him, the Institute is pretty laidback when it comes to clocking in and Shiro would just end up bored without anything to do.

Still Shiro fidgets. He calculates the time it will take to drive to the SSI- The Space Science Institute- , the time it will take to find a parking spot, the time it will take to find the right floor- he takes another breather.

_Calm down. It’s going to be fine._

He murmurs the same words under his breath as he steps out of his apartment, firmly locking it behind himself. Focusing so hard he barely notices as the door next to him clicks open.

“- and feed Marmora, she’s been making that godawful racket forever- oh, hey Shiro.”

Shiro twitches, snapping out of his thoughts to meet Keith’s questioning gaze. Shiro smiles and is glad to see Keith answering with one of his own.

“Where are you headed?” Shiro asks, walking to the elevator. His heart thuds a little louder when he notices Keith following.

“A lecture,” comes the soft reply. Shiro glances at Keith, takes in his new neighbour’s appearance and instantly feels a little guilty. _Stop staring at someone who’s taken, you goof. He probably won’t even appreciate it. Who the hell appreciates some stranger staring at them like a piece of meat anyway?_

“Hellooo, Earth to Shirogane,” Keith snaps his fingers in front of Shiro and snorts when Shiro’s cheeks heat up.

“I slept kinda badly so I’m really out of it,” Shiro murmurs. Why is Keith so distracting? It’s not like Shiro hasn’t seen beautiful people before. He’s twenty-seven, not twelve. He can control himself.

“I can see that,” Keith huffs. “You sure you’re okay? You look kinda pale.”

“I think it’s just the nerves,” Shiro says and manages a glance. Keith is looking  back at him, leaning against the opposite wall of the elevator. Keith’s hair is in an unfairly cute braid.

“Nerves?” Keith hums. Then he seems to remember. “Oh, right! You’re starting a new job, was it?”

Shiro nods. “Three times a week at the SSI. Mostly office-stuff.”

“Space Institute, yeah? Ha, I heard that place is notoriously hardass in their recruiting. You must be quite something to be hired.” There is it. That smirk again. Shiro looks away.

Shiro scratches his temple, unbearably aware that the harsh elevator-lights can’t hide the pink on his cheeks. “Nah, just got good grades at the university. I’m an aerospace engineer.” He glances at Keith once again.

“Figured you for a straight A kinda guy,” Keith says, watching him with that little crooked grin. “I’m unfortunately just a lowly average grades-student of Information sciences with some open university courses on literally anything space-related.”

Before Shiro can reply, the elevator pings and its door slide smoothly open to reveal the street level. “Sounds cool,” Shiro says as they step out together.

“If nothing else, at least I can be your friendly neighbourhood library-guy who can tell you the names of all the moons in our solar system,” Keith snickers as they walk out of the building.

“Still. Cool. You know, I gotta run. Unless you need a ride?”

Keith chuckles. “Sorry, gotta take a raincheck on that. Boyfriend promised to take me.”

Shiro keeps his face level. “Oh, of course. I don’t wanna keep you. Have a nice day, Keith!”

Keith waves. “You too, mister Straight A.”

 _Not that straight,_ Shiro thinks as he turns towards the parking lot and his first day at a new job.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ssh let's just pretend this magical space institute accepts newly graduates under 30-yr olds who can't even work a full week lmao
> 
> also Keith why are you flirting with someone else when you have a boyfriend you dumbo
> 
> ps. it's because trouble in paradise etc and because Lotor is well.. Lotor. Lmao.   
> ps. also the post-its will come in play. not just yet.


	3. I wanna be the reason of your smile

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiro lives his life in pleasant, nice silence. Some mail is misplaced. Boyfriends have a row and Shiro and Keith talk properly for the first time. The start of a beautiful friendship. 
> 
> Winkyface.

Shiro isn’t a fan of the nerves that strike him hard during his first day at work. The same nerves that refuse to fade even on the next day. Or the next day. When Thursday morning arrives- as chilly and windy as the mornings before- Shiro is bone-deep tired, drifting in a pleasant dreamland and trying to organize all the aches and pains of his body.

He barely flinches when his letterbox clanks. He rarely gets mail anyway: an electricity bill once every three months, the occasional Christmas and birthday-card and packages from his parents. Nothing so urgent that he can’t lay down for a moment more.

He buries his face deeper into his pillow and sighs. He hasn’t seen Keith at all for the past three days: has heard music and the occasional clank of a door. Shiro’s met the other neighbours living on this floor though: the nice old couple just on the other side of Shiro- the elevator left between them- who had come up to his door by themselves yesterday and offered him applepie. Then there had been the sullen young woman with a massive dog on the farthest corner: Shiro had only seen her by accident when they had happened on the elevator at the same time. She had grunted in greeting and ignored his polite have a good day.

None of them quite as intriguing as Keith.

Shiro sighs again and gets himself up from his bed, stretching hard enough to make his joints pop. Twenty-seven years old? Hah. More like eighty-seven. He gets up to make himself coffee and start on his breakfast. Only once he’s eaten he remembers the mail.

Barefooted and shirtless, he walks to his door to find a stack of letters and a slim package that’s obviously from his parents. He takes the stack and goes back to the kitchen to pour through it. The package and the card are from his parents. One of the letters is from the SSI. And the other-

“Huh?”

 _413, not his 412._ And his name definitely isn’t Keith Kogane. There’s another letter too, stamped with Galaxy Garrison College that makes Shiro’s eyebrows lift up. Not that it’s any of his business what schools Keith has applied to or what courses he’s taken. Or however Keith lives his life. They’re just neighbours and not even friends.

Gathering his thoughts and himself, Shiro takes both of Keith’s letters and walks all the way to his door, hand on the door handle before he remembers his own half-nakedness. It wouldn’t be a big deal, really, other than the scars covering most of his right arm, the gnarly way his right hand never quite manages to straighten properly anymore.

Cheeks hot, Shiro fetches himself a shirt and even tightens the strings of his sweatpants before he opens the door to the hallway, leaving it open a crack behind himself.

He’s already raised his hand to knock before he remembers that it is barely nine in the morning- maybe Keith’s at a morning lecture? Maybe he’s still sleeping?

Shiro fidgets. Looks at the letters in his hand. Then leans down to carefully push them through Keith’s letterbox, making sure to make as little noise as possible. Once it’s done, he straightens once more and only then pays attention to the singular name: Kogane. Just Kogane. No boyfriend’s name stamped semi-permanently next to it.

“What the fuck are you doing, Shirogane,” Shiro murmurs to himself and rubs his face, fingertips catching on the slash of a scar across his nose. He gathers himself once more and returns home.

He expects that to be the end of the misplaced mail.

He expects not to see Keith for a while and definitely doesn’t expect his Friday to end with a run-in in the hallway.

With both Keith and the boyfriend. Who are currently in the middle of a rather passionate make-out-session.

“Oh god,” Shiro says out loud, as he steps out of the elevator and freezes.

“Oh,” says Keith as he separates from his boyfriend with an audible smack. His hair is sticking into every direction and he’s clearly dressed to go out.

He looks devastatingly good.

“Whoops,” says the boyfriend, his grin utterly shameless.

Shiro just knows his cheeks are burning. “Sorry,” he murmurs, rather uselessly.

“Sorry,” Keith says. “You know how it is, neighbour, sometimes you just gotta.” He shrugs and grabs the boyfriend’s arm. As they pass Shiro to the elevator, the oddest little expression flashes over Keith’s face. Before Shiro can decipher it, the elevator-doors have closed.

“Come on now, Shirogane, they have every right to suck face wherever they are,” he huffs to himself as he goes home. They don’t have to worry about offending my delicate everything. They really don’t.

He cracks open a beer and very determinedly decides to spend the evening with trashy reality TV and nature documentaries. Neither has ever kissed a crush of his in front of him, after all.

Not that he has a crush on his unattainable neighbor. Not at all. He’s a grown man, after all. He doesn’t fall in love after just a couple of meetings.

“I’m fine,” he says to his TV. The lion on it grabs a gazelle and begins to eat. Shiro makes a face.

*

As days tend to do without much excitement, Shiro’s days begin to blur. A weekend. A week. He sees Keith occasionally and always says hello but always, always ends up biting his tongue and not continuing the conversation.

A week or two pass before another one of Keith’s letters ends up inside Shiro’s letterbox. This time he makes sure he’s dressed, makes sure he hears subtle music from Keith’s apartment and knocks. Knocks again. With a sigh Shiro returns home and then returns a moment later with the letter- this time adorned with a post-it.

_hey this ended up in my letterbox._

_that’s the third letter of yours that’s ended up being sent to me._

_Maybe the post office messed up your address again?_

  * _Shiro from next door_ _:)_



Apparently the post-it does its job because the next day when Shiro returns from work, there’s a bright yellow post-it on his door handle.

_I was wondering why I didn’t get some of my letters in time!_

_Turns out it’s the post office fucking up. and apparently my mom’s got the wrong address. By one number. Sorry about that, won’t happen again._

_Thanks for informing me_

  * _Keith, also from next door ;)_



Shiro doesn’t ponder on the winky face. Keith just seems like a naturally flirty person and the type to put winky faces with every last message of his. Briefly Shiro wonders if he puts winky faces on all his messages towards the boyfriend- but then pinches himself the arm. None of your business, you moron.

X

A turn in Shiro’s otherwise monotonous life happens during the very beginning of his third week of living in this building. He’s woken up from his cat nap in the middle of a hailstorm, snapping awake from the middle of a nightmare by what’s unmistakably an argument brewing on the other side of the wall. He pushes his quilt away from his legs and gets up from the sofa.

_“- like I don’t know- yeah, you f-“_

_“Please, it’s-“_

_“Fuck your apologies!”_

_“Fuck your attitude!”_

Shiro grimaces. He recognizes Keith’s voice, even from how little he’s heard it and how muffled it is coming through the wall. He doesn’t recognize the other voice but it doesn’t take a genius to realize it’s the boyfriend.

_“- Whore!”_

Shiro stills. Should he intervene? Are they okay? Couples do fight but this sounds so… loud. Shiro tilts his head and listens for a second, making a face when somebody slams the door hard and begins to march down the stairs, making a whole lot of racket.

Shiro scratches his jaw, fingertips catching on the faint pinpricks of a stubble. Shaving is a little bit of pain with just one properly functional hand and he’s not looking forward to doing it again. He listens for a moment, idly scratching his jaw but when there is only silence, he moves to make himself a cup of tea.

He’s in the process of pouring the water to his mug- his favourite one, a huge blue monstrosity straight from the heart of Kyoto- when his doorbell rings. He blinks. He sets both his mug and the kettle down before making his way to the door.

He doesn’t open it without making sure his sleeves cover his scars enough.

“Ye- oh. Hey, Keith.”

Because it is Keith, whose cheek is red and whose hair is the kind of a mess that should have been amusing if it weren’t for the utter defeat in his eyes.

“Um,” says Keith, putting his hands under his armpits and offering Shiro a faint smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “I know the walls are thin as fuck so you probably heard. Don’t worry, shit happens and it’s mostly my fault and all- but I just- sorry. You shouldn’t have to hear our shit.”

Shiro takes a moment to breathe, to let his shoulders relax- they always involuntarily tense up when his privacy is suddenly disturbed.- and to gather his thoughts. “Uh, no- hey. It’s fine. Couples fight.” Shiro’s cheeks heat up when Keith’s eyebrow lifts. “I mean. Sometimes. It’s honestly fine. I was just taking a nap and not doing anything particularly important.”

Keith nods, his smile wavering a bit. He raises his hand to rub his reddened cheek. For a moment Shiro wonders why and has the most horrifying thought that the boyfriend had slapped Keith.

But it’s none of his business. His mouth still works against his brain and says: “Are you okay?”

Keith blinks at him, mouth opening a crack. That beautiful, yet saddening surprise almost makes Shiro backpedal but then Keith smiles. More genuinely this time. Shiro’s heart gives an uncomfortable jolt.  “Aren’t you sweet. Don’t you worry over me. Lo’s a hothead but so am I so it’s kinda given that we clash occasionally- especially when we’re both sleep-deprived. He’s got his work and I’ve got my studies and all.”

Shiro flushes. “Mom tends to say I worry too much over other people and not enough about myself.”

Keith snorts. “Why am I not surprised?”

“I don’t know what kind of an image you have of me, but I’m not entirely sure it’s the right one.” Shiro shifts his weight from one foot to another when the damaged one begins to twinge with pain.

“I’m sure it’s the right one,” Keith says, crossing his arms again. He tilts his head. “Are _you_ okay?”

Shiro nods. Nods again for good measure. “Uh, yeah. I’m kind of an old man in a young man’s body. I get aches sometimes.” That’s putting it lightly, you goof.

Keith’s smile goes a little hesitant but still sweet enough to make it hard to look at him. “Okay. Okay. I’ve taken up enough of your time already, I better go back to Marmora, she’s been cowering under my bed ever since we started yelling, the poor thing.” Seeing the question on Shiro’s face, Keith snorts. “Oh, right. Sorry. Marmora’s my cat. This big, ridiculously fluffy and cowardly dork.” Keith tucks his hair behind his ear. “Come see her sometime. If you’re not allergic, that is.”

Is Shiro just imagining or is the red on Keith’s both cheeks now? “I’m- I’m not allergic. I actually really like cats and I’m kinda looking forward to getting one myself. Now that I finally live alone.”

This time Keith chuckles. “I know the feeling, believe me. But honestly, I’m home almost all the time. Just ring the bell.” He smiles again. Shiro returns it. “You can even leave a post-it and I’ll get back to you.”

Shiro nods.

Keith winks. “I’ll go toast to a new friendship with a nice cup of Earl Grey.” Then he turns and walks the few steps necessary to reach his door.

Shiro quickly slips back into his apartment and closes the door. He lets his forehead thud against it and listens to his heart drumming against his ribcage. He closes his eyes but only sees the defeat in Keith’s dark, dark eyes.


	4. just a bit closer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiro meets Keith's cat. Shiro realizes he's already in trouble. Keith is not subtle at all in hiding the fact that he's unhappy in his relationship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lmao hi two chapters in one day because sheith, man. sheith is inspiring.
> 
> also because i just want these two to be in love forever

The very next day that Shiro has free he decides to take Keith up on his offer. After Shiro’s usual morning and midday-routines, he tugs his sleeves over his hands, makes sure he has his keys and makes sure his hair isn’t a completely awful mess before stepping out into the hallway. Before he can turn towards Keith’s door, he hears another door open.

“Oh,” he says when he turns to see old lady Jones.

“Good day to your, boy!”

Shiro scratches his temple and decides to not tell her to not call him a boy. To her he probably is one. “Hello. I hope you’re having a nice day.”

Mrs. Jones looks dressed for the winter weather outside, her grey curls bursting out from under her thick beanie. She peers at him through her thick glasses. “I’m good, I’m good. Whatchu standin’ there for? You’re not even wearing socks!”

Shiro has to lean down a bit to meet her face to face as she barely reaches his shoulder. He bites back a smile, his toes curling against the cool floor. “I was just gonna see if my neighbour, well, other neighbour’s home. He invited me to see his cat.”

Mrs. Jones nods fiercely and pats Shiro’s chest shamelessly. Shiro’s eyebrows jump up. “Oh, that Keith is quite something! He always says hello to me and my darling on the elevator and is always so polite. He’s even given us some baked goods from time to time. What a sweet thing! That cat of his is the laziest little son of a bitch I’ve ever seen!” She slaps his chest again. Two times for good measure. Shiro bites back a confused smile.

Mrs. Jones guffaws. “I don’t care for Keith’s friend though, if you catch my meaning, boy. That boy’s got a nasty look in his eye. A sweet boy like Keith deserves someone better.” She slaps his chest again. Shiro clears his throat and steps away.

“I don’t think it’s up to us to decide,” he says gently. “I’m sure Keith knows what’s best for him.”

“Sure, sure, don’t mind an old lady just rambling on and letting the day go by! Go on then, go, go, I’ll go too. Say hello to Keith from me, boyo.” Mrs. Jones guffaws again and makes her way to the elevator. Shiro waits for the doors to open to let her in and to hide her once they close before turning to Keith’s door. He rings the doorbell. He hopes that Keith is even home.

He rings it again. Shrugs when there’s no answer or sign of movement from the inside. He turns towards home but then the door does open: to reveal a pink-cheeked Keith, clearly straight out of a shower as he is only wearing a towel and still dripping water on his carpet.

“Oh,” Keith says.

“Oh,” Shiro says. “The, the cat?”

Keith blinks and stares at him for a second. Shiro does his best to not let his gaze slip from Keith’s face. Then Keith snorts. “Oh fuck, I totally forgot- I’m sorry, sorry- sorry I’m so naked and I ran out to open the door like a total idiot- come in!”

Against his better judgement, Shiro does.

Keith’s place isn’t quite what he expected: the entrance has a thick carpet with the words BEWARE OF THE CAT printed on it, along with a cat’s paw. When Shiro looks up and walks onwards, he spots the artwork on the walls, a few posters featuring famous movie characters scattered here and there. There single wide window- the same kind that Shiro has- is covered in thick red curtains. There’s no sign of Marmora the cat, although Shiro spots what’s unmistakably her scratching post in the corner, reaching to high heavens.

“I know my walls are interesting but here’s someone who’s way cooler to look at,” Keith says from somewhere in his vicinity. Shiro turns to see that Keith’s dressed himself in jeans and a t-shirt and in his arms is-

“Marmora, this is our newest neighbour Shiro. Shiro, this is the love of my life Marmora.”

The cat blinks her huge green eyes at Shiro and looks perfectly content laying there in Keith’s- lean, defined- arms. Keith’s face is so soft that Shiro’s knees feel a little weak.

“Oh, hello you,” he murmurs and takes a curious step onwards. Keith glances up and for a single second Shiro lets himself look at Keith instead of the cat and lets himself think _I have never seen prettier eyes._

“Why thank you,” Keith says, his grin bright. Those same eyes are so dark. Way livelier than the evening when he had appeared on Shiro’s door to invite him to meet Marmora.

Shiro’s face goes hot instantly and he groans. _Did I say that aloud? Did I just say that out loud?_ “I meant the cat, you-“ Marmora meows. Shiro looks at her to see her squirm a bit, her ears flicking towards him. “Hi, yes, you. Aren’t you a beauty?”

“I know right?” Murmurs Keith, his voice fond. He gives his cat to Shiro who carefully takes her in his arms, his heart instantly full. Marmora’s blinking her huge green eyes at him, her long, fluffy fur tickling his hands. He gently scratches behind her ear and is utterly delighted when he hears the unmistakable purring.

“Oh, wow,” Keith says. “I’ve never seen her purr at anyone else but me. Especially not instantly. What kind of magic fingers do you have?”

Shiro nearly drops the cat when Keith gently nudges his side. He hides it by smiling and carefully maneuvering his unco-operative fingers in the important task of caressing Marmora’s fur. “The cat-loving kind? My friends- a brother and a sister- they live together and they have two cats. They’re little menaces but I love them to bits. To them I’m pretty much uncle Shiro.”

“That’s-“ Shiro looks up to find Keith watching him. “That’s so cute, Shiro.”

Shiro looks back down. “Oh, silence, you.”

Keith snorts. “Nah. It’s totally worth it to see how much you blush. It’s kinda interesting too. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a guy blush so much before.”

Shiro hums. The cat has closed her eyes and is purring even louder. “Dunno what kinda guys you’ve been hanging around with it but in my circles we show our feelings,” he mutters, unable to bite back a grin when Marmora licks his fingertip. Too bad there’s not a lot of feeling in his hand anymore. But it’s the thought that counts.

Keith’s quiet for so long that Shiro begins to worry he’s said the wrong thing. “It’s- it’s not my place to judge your friends or anything, it’s not like we’re friends ourselves or an-“ his voice trails off once he looks up. Keith is watching him still, arms crossed, face indescribable. Once their gazes meet, Keith offers him a little smile.

“I guess you and my circles are a little different,” Keith says quietly.

Marmora’s had enough because she suddenly squirms and Shiro lets her jump off his arms. He doesn’t bother to brush off the cat hair from his shirt and instead tugs on his own fingers. “They don’t have to be, you know.”

Keith hums. “No, they don’t. And I’m not judging you either, by the way. It’s honestly refreshing that you’re so open with your emotions. Honestly.”

Shiro’s nose wrinkles. “I wouldn’t be if I had stayed in Japan. God knows I love the country and my parents and my hometown but, it did me good to move away.” His cheeks are still warm. Dammit. “I just- I just mean that I began to be more honest with myself when I moved to the US with my uncle when I was thirteen. It’s just natural for me to not hide what I’m feeling.”

Keith’s laughter could heal a broken heart and wake the dead. Shiro rubs his warm cheek and meets Keith’s gaze again. “That’s good, that’s real good. Honesty’s a virtue that often goes unappreciated,” Keith says. His smile doesn’t reach his eyes again.

“It’s a virtue I can’t live without,” Shiro says.

“What happened to your uncle?”

“Why do you think something happened?”

Keith gives him a look. Shiro has to smile at that, just a bit. “Okay, okay- nothing happened. He fell in love, bought her a house and now lives most of the year on a space station and the rest of the time with her. He writes letters sometimes.”

“Space station?” Keith grins. “You know what, neighbour, I think I’m gonna have to befriend you properly. You clearly have some kind of a cool backstory there.”

Shiro shakes his head, unable to help a little fond smile. “No such thing. I’m as boring as they come.”

“Oh no, no, no, you’re not getting out of this. I already embarrassed myself with that whole argument-thing earlier and I introduced you to my cat. I’ve started to unlock your backstory. You’ve seen my boyfriend. You’ve seen my place. That calls for friendship.”

“Also I’ve carried you drunk out of a bar,” Shiro can’t help but say.

This time Keith blushes. “What- oh god, right. You honest to god carried me? Why didn’t I ask this before?”

Shiro snorts. “You were kinda heavy.”

Keith nudges his ribs with a sharp elbow. “Also apparently drunk out of my ass because I can’t remember at all.”

“Maybe it’s for the better,” Shiro murmurs and is delighted when Keith laughs: a full-on head-thrown-back laugh.

“I’m sorry I’m an aggressive drunk and apparently drink enough to forget. Oh fuck. Honest. If you still wanna hang after that then you’re a stronger man than most.”

Shiro wants to say: _I could pretty much bench press you even with just one properly functional hand so yes, you could say that._ Instead he says: “I wouldn’t mind. Hanging. Around.”

Keith’s eyes no longer look so sad. “Okay. Cool.”

Shiro goes for a smile and is delighted when Keith answers it. “Cool.”

They fidget for a second, Shiro tugs on a thread hanging from the hem of his sweater. Then Keith makes a thoughtful sound. “So… can I ask if there’s a story to your hand? I notice you kinda, hold it protectively and all.”

Shiro stills and doesn’t look up anymore. “Oh.  Yeah. That. There’s a story but. Maybe I’ll save it for later.” He glances up then when he sees Keith’s bare toes shift a little closer.

Keith’s just shorter enough that he has to tilt his head up a bit to look Shiro in the eye. Shiro holds back his imagination as he doesn’t want his brain to make up imaginary scenarios where he can pull Keith closer.

“I’m looking forward to that, Takashi Shirogane.”

*

Shiro has no idea how he makes it back home afterwards. He stumbles through the rest of the day in a dreamlike haze, horribly aware that he has a terrible, horrible, no-good crush that weighs like a ton of bricks on his heart and that he finds himself smiling at absolutely nothing just because Keith is interested in being his friend. Keith Kogane of long muscular legs and silky-looking hair.

“Oh god. I’ve turned into a teenager again,” Shiro murmurs to nothing in particular. He wonders who he should call: his parents would just frown at him for thinking inappropriate thoughts about someone who’s taken. Pidge would just snort-giggle her way out of the conversation. And Matt… nah. Matt’s head is so far up in the clouds that it would take a miracle to pull him out. He would have zero sympathy for this particular woe.

Shiro sighs, pinches the bridge of his nose. Think. Think. Who else? Just someone reasonab- oh. Oh. Of course. Allura should be back from her honey moon, right? While Shiro already knows what she’s going to say, he still needs to hear her say it. She’d been there for him in his relationship-woes before- had even been the more sensible one when they had tried dating during early teenage years. Suffice to say, it hadn’t worked out well.

Then again, he had gained one of his best friends out of it so he’s not too frustrated about that particular memory.

He digs out his phone and scrolls down to find her number. Thank God she’s at least on the same continent so Shiro doesn’t have to worry about that many time zones, just the two hours between them.

The phone beeps. Shiro sits down on his sofa, pulls his legs under himself. He keeps his scarred hand on his lap, idly trailing the scars with his eyes as he waits for her to answer.

He’s just in the middle of thinking about that fight between Keith and his boyfriend when Allura’s cheery voice slips through the receiver.

_“Heyyy Shiro!”_

He huffs. “Hey yourself. How was the honeymoon?”

_“Perfect! Also we’ve been back for like a week and I meant to call you but it’s been incredibly busy at work. You know how it is. How are you?”_

He shifts.

“Shiro?”

“Okay, this is the stupidest thing you’ve heard all day but here it goes: I have a crush. You know how big this is. Also how fucking scared I am.” So that’s what it is. The unnecessary clamminess of his hands. The quiver of his limbs. Not just Keith looking good and smiling at him so bright. Just the thoughts of what ifs. And Keith’s boyfriend. Who very much exists.

Shiro feels a jolt of guilt for disliking the guy just for existing.

 _“Shiro, that is indeed rather silly,”_ Allura murmurs, her smooth voice washing over him like a comfortable wave.

“I know,” he mutters.

_“But it’s not like you can’t help having crushes, right? Or falling in love, if that’s what it is.”_

“God no. No. That’d be awful.”

_“How so? If this is another one of those you don’t think you’re good enough-“_

Shiro laughs, aware of how unnaturally shrill it sounds. He snaps his mouth shut. “It’s- it’s not that.”

Allura hums _. “Then what is it? Is she or he someone super inappropriate that you’re agonizing so much over it? Darling, come on. You know already what to do.”_

“Maybe. Also yeah, the guy’s my neighbour. One of them. And he has a boyfriend. I’ve witnessed them kissing enough to know that’s not going away anytime soon.” He bites his tongue when he hears how sullen his words sound. Get a grip, Shirogane.

Allura clicks his tongue _. “Oh boy, that is indeed a bitch of a situation.”_

Shiro snorts, startled. Allura never curses unless in a dire situation. “You could say that again. And honestly, it’s bad. It’s so bad it’s ridiculous. All it took was one look. One look and I was just hooked. It’s like I’m on drugs.”

Allura laughs. _“Well, that’s what being in love kinda is.”_

“It’s not love,” Shiro insists. “It’s just a crush. Crushes go away.”

Allura hums _. “They do, they do. Well, you know what to do. You take in the feeling and you don’t forcibly try to push it away, right?”_

“Right.”

_“You accept it, you accept the fact that it exists and that it’s a part of you. With time, it will pass once your heart catches up with your brain and realizes this person is unattainable.”_

Shiro sighs. “Right.” None of this is new. He’s been practicing handling his emotions with his therapists for years, especially after his accident.

_“Aww. I can’t remember the last time you even had a crush, much less were in love.”_

“It’s been a while,” Shiro murmurs, tugging his knees against his chest. He smushes his face against them. “I feel like a fifteen-year-old who just started puberty. This is so ridiculous.”

 _“Awwwwww,”_ says Allura again.

Shiro chuckles against his better judgement. “Silence, you.”

 _“You’ll manage, darling,”_ Allura says. _“You always do.”_

Shiro nods, although she can’t see it. “I always do. Talk to you more later, alright?”

_“Of course. You know I’m here for you.”_

“And I’m here for you.”

_“Bye for now, darling.”_

“Bye, Allura.”

He tosses his phone to the sofa. He groans and smushes his face further into his knees. Let it wash over him. Accept that he feels weak in the knees when faced with Keith’s disarming smile. Accept that he feels. It’s going to be fine. He’s going to be fine.

Shiro inhales. Exhales. Inhales. He lets himself be silently jealous of Keith’s boyfriend who gets to see all of Keith. Who gets to know all of Keith’s secrets and quirks and what makes him lovable and what makes him annoying.

He lets himself think of Keith’s hair and face and eyes and hands that had held his cat so gently.

“It’s okay,” he whispers to himself. “You’re okay. Keith doesn’t have to know. Ever. He doesn’t have to see or hear your weaknesses. He’s not yours. He never will be. That’s fine. That’s okay. It happens. It will pass.”

No matter how long he sits there, silently murmuring to himself, the ache in his heart refuses to pass.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ALSO Lotor is a perfect little asshole and someone needs to be the villain soooo.......


	5. From my heart to yours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matt makes an appearance. Shiro pines some more. Keith confesses some things and the boys have a little heart-to-heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> don't worry this will be the only angst ychapter 
> 
> o n ly one

Accepting the fact that his heart beats for another person for the first time in five years- and for an unfairly unattainable one at that- ends up taking its time. Shiro has restless dreams. He has a couple of bad days when none of his limbs seem to want to co-operate and he ends up having to call Matt to help him get to the pharmacy.

  
The pharmacy, in turn, sends him to the doctor to change his day meds. They tell him it’s nothing to worry about, just a necessary change since his body seems to have gotten too used to his regular medication and _has there been any side effects?_

_You mean, aside from the night shivers and nightmares and sudden moodswings from the past couple of days? Nah, not really, Doc._

With a new package of bright blue pills in bag, Shiro is carefully herded out of the elevator into the hallway by Matt, who keeps rattling on possible animal rescue centers from where Shiro could get his cat. Or dog, if prefers.

“Definitely a cat and you know it, Matt,” Shiro huffs and shakes off Matt’s hand from his back. Just In time because when he’s slotting his key into his lock, Keith’s door clicks open, followed by humming. Instantly Shiro’s mouth twitches into a smile, followed by Matt’s elbow in his ribs.

“Ow,” Shiro murmurs.

“Like that even hurt,” Matt huffs.

Keith steps out, looking cozy in his burning red joggers and a black coat. Shiro does think his fingers look a little cold in those fingerless gloves, but maybe Keith is made of warmer stuff than him. Keith’s ears are also covered in headphones that he lowers once he actually notices he’s got company.

“Oh, hi Shiro!”

Shiro smiles. Keith smiles back as he pushes his door shut behind himself.

Matt clears his throat. Shiro nods. “Yeah, yeah. Matt, this is my newest friend Keith. Keith, this is Matt, one of my oldest friends.”

“Aw,” Keith murmurs and nods in greeting to Matt. “I’ll see you around, Matt. Take care of this big guy now, alright?”

“Oh, well, bye,” Shiro manages before Keith’s turned on his heel and pulled his headphones back on. Shiro hadn’t quite managed to catch what he’d been listening to.

He doesn’t quite manage to hold back a huff when Matt pinches his cheek. “The look on your damn face, Shirogane!”

“There was no look,” Shiro says gently and finally opens his door to let both of them in. “Keith’s just a friend. He has the sweetest little-“

“Fluffball of a cat. Yeah. You kinda told me and Pidge. And everyone who listens,” Matt murmurs, amused as he helps Shiro out of his coat and his shoes. “As you told us that you wish your hot neighbour wasn’t taken because he’s a walking wet dream.”

“I didn’t say any of that,” Shiro grimaces and pulls away.

“Well, not quite in those words but I think I remember there being the word ‘dreamy’ next to ‘my hot neighbour’. And from what you’ve told us, neither the old couple or the sullen teenage girl are quite your type, sooo….”

“Silence, you heathen,” Shiro mutters. “Don’t you have better things to do than mock me?”

“It’s not mockery, dude. It’s you being so easy to rile up,” Matt huffs. He doesn’t offer to help Shiro with putting away his new medication- he never does unless Shiro specifically asks. Instead Matt leans against the bathroom-door and watches. “Besides, it’s not a crime to look.”

Shiro pushes another orange bottle next to the other ones. “Well, I still don’t feel comfortable letting everyone everywhere know who I’ve got the hots for.”

“Got the hots for-“ Matt snickers. “Is that what the kids call it nowadays?”

Shiro makes a face at him over his shoulder. “Silence. You know what I mean. If I have my way, Keith will never know and he can go on being happy with his smug-faced boyfriend-“ Shiro’s voice trails off. His ears burn. “Not that his boyfriend is smug. I don’t know him. I wish I could say I didn’t care though.”

“You do know it’s perfectly normal to feel jealous? Especially when the love of your life is smooching up to someone else?”

Shiro doesn’t have to look at Matt to know what kind of a face his friend has. “I just feel uncomfortable,” Shiro murmurs and organizes his pill bottles and shaving creams and skin care-products. The two tiny shelves above the sink still look a little empty. “It’s awful to catch myself thinking that I’d be happy if they broke up so I could ask Keith out. And who knows, maybe he’s nice just because we’re neighbours and because one day I returned mail to him that was accidentally given to me!”

Matt snorts. “Dude, I’m as straight as they come and even I have eyes enough to say you’re a catch.”

Shiro steps away from his shelves and turns. “Sure, what a catch. I’m like an old man during wintertime because my joints hurt. I take daily medication to keep my head and my body in check. My accident was entirely my fault and left me looking like goddamn Freddy Krueger from the neck down. Sure. A catch.” It ends up sounding whiny to even his own ears that he grimaces. He pinches the bridge of his nose. “Sorry. I don’t mean to snap.”

“I know you don’t.” Matt pats his arm gently. “And you know you’re forgiven. I know you’re not lashing out on me because of me.”

“That doesn’t really make things any better,” Shiro murmurs and meets his friend’s understanding warm eyes.

“Yeah, maybe not. But we’ve all got shit to deal with, right? And your shit tends to be what you want to shoulder all on your own. You don’t have to, though.” Matt tucks his hands into his pockets. “Do you want me to go?”

Shiro sighs and then pulls Matt into a brief, but warm hug.

 “If you don’t have anything urgent going on right now, how about we watch a movie?”

Matt gives him thumbs up. “Sure thing. I’ll choose though.”

“I have a perfectly decent taste in movies,” Shiro murmurs but follows his friend into his living room anyway.

x

Matt ends up staying the night. They share a bed like they used to as kids, although Matt tends to kick everyone and everything in his sleep and Shiro can’t ever quite trust his brain to keep him dreaming without the nightmares. They manage somehow without further bruises on either the brain or the body and Shiro sends Matt off the next morning with lot less pain than the day before.

He even feels invigorated enough to (after checking the time, of course) to ring Keith’s doorbell. He tries it again before skipping back to his apartment to fetch a post-it- this time in bright pink- and a pen.

_rang your doorbell but you weren’t home. I’d love to see Marmora. and chat some more with you, obviously. do ring my doorbell or write me a note when you’re free: I’m pretty much always home from thu-sun from like 10 onwards_

  * _Shiro : )_



He carefully places the post-it on Keith’s doorknob, making sure it won’t fall by accident.

He’s humming under his breath by the time he returns inside to go on with his day.

x

It’s the day after that and the day after _that_ when Shiro gets Keith’s answer. It’ s a neon green post-it that’s shaped much like Marmora. It’s stuck halfway under the door. Shiro tugs it free with a grin.

_sry been busy! I haven’t been home in like a few days now, you probably noticed, - even had to take Marmora to a friend of mine- and all but I returned this morning! idk when you’ll even read this but still. I’m totally alone for today and the day after that, sick leave. if you swing by, bring me like. chicken soup. or tea._

_or just yourself._

  * _your friendly neighbourhood Keith_



Shiro bites back a noise at how utterly adorable the note is before going inside. He tucks the note into his pocket and instantly wonders what he should bring. Is Keith really sick? Maybe it’s a fever. Maybe it’s something worse. Maybe Shiro needs to stop overthinking. He snags one of his own hardy painkiller-bottles and brews a travel mug full of ginger tea. At least it’ll be nice and hot enough to cover the taste if Keith’s not a fan of ginger.

Who isn’t a fan of ginger though.

Shiro makes his way to Keith’s apartment with the mug and painkillers in tow and rings the doorbell. It takes a moment for him to hear shuffling and the ringing of the door chain but then the door’s pulled open.

“Figured it was you,” Keith says and beckons him in, pushing the door shut behind them. He tugs on the door chain. “What do you got there?”

Shiro watches him, tries to discern where he’s been and why he’s on sick leave but he figures just straight up asking would be a little invasive. So instead he offers the travel mug and the painkillers. “I- I didn’t know what you needed but I didn’t want to come empty-handed. You look a little pale and those are pretty strong painkillers. Also it’s ginger tea. I always drink it when I feel under the weather.”

Keith takes both, his fingers cool on Shiro’s own warm ones. “I was just joking, you know. You didn’t have to bring me anything. I’m a big boy.” Keith’s teeth find his lip and nibble on it, just enough to make it flush a gentler pink. “But honestly, thanks. I mean it.” He grins then, Shiro’s knees wobbling. “You’re also in luck because I fucking love ginger in everything.”

Shiro follows him to his living room, to the neatly organized armchairs. Keith takes the only free one, since the other one is occupied by a fluffball who’s currently folded herself into the most uncomfortable-looking position. Marmora cracks one bright eye open and meows at the sight of Shiro. Shiro meows back and laughs when Marmora stretches and gets up and hops off the chair to go sniff at him.

“You don’t even have a cat and yet you’re a true cat dad,” Keith snorts from his chair, turning back up the volume of whatever he’s been watching.

Shiro scratches Marmora’s ears and can’t keep the fondness out of his face or his voice when she slips past his legs and rubs his ankles. “It’s in my nature, I guess.”

“So it seems to be,” murmurs Keith, his tone odd enough to make Shiro look up. But Keith’s not looking at him, just at the TV.

Shiro takes it upon himself to grab Marmora into his arms and sit down, sighing deeply when his butt hits the cushions.

Keith snickers. “Nice, right? These were- uh. Well I got them when I moved in here six years ago. I’ve slept countless naps in both.”

Marmora settles onto Shiro’s knees and starts purring. Shiro sets his scarred hand on top of her fur and gently strokes, glancing at his companion. Keith looks back. “Do you wanna be alone?”

Keith’s smile wavers. “No. Just stay.”

“Okay,” Shiro says.

“Okay,” Keith says. The moment passes. Keith clears his throat and sips his tea. “Have you watched Farscape?”

Shiro blinks at the screen. “Doesn’t look familiar. I’m kind of lazy when it comes to starting new shows. Or old ones, for that matter. I’m a one-show at a time kinda guy.”

Keith chuckles, but the sound is a little off. Shiro glances at him again but Keith’s hiding his expression from Shiro, hiding behind the travel mug and the remote and pulled up knees. For that matter, Keith doesn’t look sick, at least not on the outside.

Shiro of all people knows not every sickness shows on a person’s face after all.

He still looks, especially when Keith lowers his hands  and reveals that sharp, pretty profile and the grim line of his mouth. Keith looks back at him too, but then shifts so his back is turned to Shiro.

“It’s a pretty cool show,” Keith says, his voice oddly toneless.

“Keith,” Shiro starts, hand on Marmora stilling. She’s apparently fallen asleep, making tiny, tiny noises.

“Please don’t… ask me things right now,” Keith murmurs. “Not now. Just stay here. For a while.”

“Anything you want, Keith,” Shiro says. He nearly bites the anything back, wondering if it’s too much. But Keith’s shoulders visibly relax.

“You’re such a nice guy, Shiro. Better than most.”

Shiro wonders if Keith’s even watching his show anymore. Shiro stares at him, wanting nothing more than to pull him closer to offer some comfort. “You don’t know me well enough yet. I’m just a guy.”

Keith snorts. From the sounds of it, he downs half of his tea in one go. “If only all guys were like you. If only I were more like you. Then maybe I didn’t feel like crap.”

Shiro opens his mouth. Snaps it closed. Then opens it again. “I’m here for you, Keith. If you need it.”

Keith shifts to put the now empty travel mug on the table. He pops one of the painkillers. “That’s what I mean. Good guy.”

“Sure,” Shiro murmurs and turns back towards the TV. His shifting wakes up Marmora who yawns and shifts her position, digging her nails into his knee. Thankfully he wore his thicker jeans. He slides his fingers into her thick fur and scratches. She begins to purr once more.

Slowly but surely, Keith shifts back towards the TV as well so Shiro can look at his face again. It’s carefully neutral, although his eyes are a little red-rimmed. Like there had been tears, almost, but Keith had refused to shed them.

They watch the scifi-show in silence, Keith snorting from time to time and occasionally pointing out a favourite character but otherwise he doesn’t continue the earlier conversation at all.

Shiro doesn’t pry.

Once the episode’s down, Keith puts on the next one. So Shiro sits, strokes Keith’s cat and watches both the TV and Keith in equal measure: taking in the way his hair’s just long enough to be tucked behind his ears, long enough to curl a bit at his neck. He looks tired. He looks unhappy. The sight of him makes Shiro’s very heart ache.

Shiro knows he’s the type to fall fast and fall hard- “You’re like a swan,” Pidge had said once, “you like, mate for life except people can’t mate for life since we’re dumbasses like that but like, you’re so dedicated to the other person-“- and shower his loved ones with praise and compliments: even now he has to hold back his tongue in saying what’s on his mind.

“You know,” Keith murmurs after the third episode and after he’s sat up a little straighter. “My- me- um.” He turns off the TV entirely and turns towards Shiro. There’s barely an arm’s length between the two armchairs.

Shiro lifts an eyebrow and gently nudges Marmora off his lap. She hops off with an offended little kurr and walks away. Shiro’s not looking after her. Not when Keith’s looking straight at him.

“First. Promise me you won’t do anything after I tell you this, okay?”

Shiro’s other eyebrow lifts. “This? Okay? You can tell me what’s on your mind, Keith. I’m here for you.”

Keith’s lips twitch, like he desperately wants to smile again. “Shit, but you’re so- never mind. Anyway. Lo and I- my boyfriend and I are kinda on the rocks right now. See, the thing is that- uh. Can you like, look away or something? I can’t think when you stare at me.” Keith’s sharp cheekbones have a sweet little flush.

Shiro can feel one of his own creep up his face as he turns away. “Okay. Okay.”

“Lotor seems to… seems to think that you and I have a thing.”

Well now. That wasn’t quite what Shiro was expecting. “Ok..ay?”

Keith shifts, the chair creaking under him. “First of all, he’s a fucking idiot and second of all, I’m loyal. I don’t cheat. That doesn’t stop my dear darling boyfriend from being one. Or being an emotionally manipulative prick.”

Shiro shifts. “Um.”

Keith sighs. “I know. Why am I even dating a guy who doesn’t make me happy? But it’s just- it’s complicated. Lotor’s a lot of things but he’s been there for me before when I had a rough time. You see, I’m an orphan. I’ve been to foster homes from the age of five to eighteen until I finally got a proper home. I’ve known Lotor since I was seven and it just seemed natural to start dating around high school and just- fuck. He hasn’t always been shit. I don’t know what’s up with him.” Keith shifts and goes quiet- for so long that Shiro nearly turns again to look. Keith shushes him.

“Don’t turn back just yet.” Keith’s voice is thick. “I’m sorry for unloading this on you but I really don’t have that many friends I could talk deep stuff with. And Lotor doesn’t get it. He doesn’t get that he’s become such a shit. He’s become so jealous and possessive and I’m just- I’m just so done. And about my absence… well. I was at a hospital.”

This time Shiro turns back around. “Keith,” he murmurs. It’s hard to keep anger from his voice. “Was it-?”

Keith shakes his head, his face turned towards the floor, his beautiful hair cascading over his forehead, over his eyes. He’s coiled up like a spring ready to burst. “I hurt myself. Just to- I don’t even know. I don’t want to die, it’s not that. I just want to be taken care of, just- Lotor’s at work constantly and when he isn’t, he’s calling me a whore for even looking at anyone he deems a threat. Like you.”

“Sorry,” Shiro whispers.

Keith snorts. “There you go again, apologizing for shit that’s no way your fault.” Keith sniffles, quickly wiping his eyes. He still doesn’t look up.

“Can I ask if- if you still love Lotor?”

Keith looks up then, his eyes once more defeated like they were the evening Shiro heard him fighting with Lotor.

“The thing is, Shiro, I don’t know if I ever did. Maybe I did, maybe I do but it’s- it’s not the love he’d want it to be. It’s not the love I want it to be.” Keith bites his lip. “We’ve been fighting more than kissing or talking for forever even before you moved in. It just was a different guy before. I think he realizes it too that we’ve been losing each other way before you: your arrival just was a convenient way for him to start trying to undermine me again and gaslighting me into a perfect docile boyfriend. You know who his father is? Oh, right, you don’t. Mister Z. Galra Corp.”

Shiro’s eyebrows shoot up. “That multibillion phone tech company?”

Keith shrugs. “The very same. I’ve met Mister Z only once and thought he was a creepy fucking asshole. It was so clear he thought I was just some random slut his precious son had brought up from the streets.”

Shiro’s fingers curl on the arm of the chair. His frustration, his helpless anger shizzles inside. “That fuck-“

“Don’t. I’m handling the situation okay. Well, aside from the self-harm and desperate need to be noticed but-“

“I notice you,” Shiro whispers. “I always notice you.”

Keith’s lips part. His eyes shimmer. “Lo almost made me believe you only looked at me because you wanted to fuck me and then toss me aside. It’s all you’re good for, he says. He of course apologises later and takes me to- dinners and all or just pretends the fight never happened. It’s- but I don’t believe it.” His lips twitch and this time the smile comes. It’s a little watery and it’s a little weak but Shiro loves the sight of it no less. “I think you have eyes too kind to be that cruel. I’ve- I’ve seen you look at me. But I feel delighted, instead of frightened.  I don’t think you’d be cruel to me.”

Shiro quivers. He reaches, places a careful, careful palm to Keith’s cheek. For a moment Keith closes his eyes and leans against it, then he opens his eyes once more.

“Am I right?” Keith is staring straight at him, straight to his core and Shiro can’t lie, can’t even diminish the truth that’s been pulsing in him ever since he carried the unconscious Keith out of the club and into the cab.

“I can’t deny that I’m attracted to you physically. I’m nothing if not human after all and I refuse to make myself feel bad anymore for finding another man beautiful.” Shiro’s thumb strokes under Keith’s eye. Keith watches, a little breathless, his fingers slowly curling around Shiro’s wrist.

“But I don’t just- in his words, fuck them and then toss them aside. People are not things. And things like- like sex are best enjoyed when both parties enjoy it, when both parties have fun and know what they’re getting into. I don’t deny that I’ve had a couple of one night stands during my life but none of those people left me wanting- and neither did I leave them wanting.”

Keith’s lips are parted; his eyes have gone half-lidded. “Shiro,” he murmurs.

Shiro cups his face, that beloved, warm face between his hands. “I want to take you out. It kills me to see you with someone else. But I don’t want you to break up with him for me. A partner should never be the cause for your tears or your pain. Heartache is one thing but this-“Shiro sighs. He shifts onwards until they’re both leaning over the arms of their respective chairs. Shiro gently presses their foreheads together. He listens to Keith inhale a shuddering breath. “If it was me with you I- I’d promise you honesty. I’d promise you safety. I’d promise to- forgive me for this but- I’d promise to love you like you should be loved. Okay?” Shiro shifts to press a kiss to Keith’s forehead, just the tiniest brush of lips.

Keith makes a noise when Shiro pulls back, a noise so tiny, so cracked that Shiro nearly ignores the insistent tugging of his common sense and his morals. But he doesn’t. He pulls back to see Keith furiously wipe his eyes into the sleeves of his hoodie.

“Goddamn, you- you goddamned smooth talker,” Keith mutters.

Shiro rubs his heated cheeks. “It’s- it’s just how I feel. I’m sorry I- I’m not sorry I said that. I just. I like you. And I’m sorry to spring that on you when you’re feeling shitty about your boyfriend.” Shiro rubs his clammy hands together. “Oh, fuck. I didn’t mean to make this about me. Sorry.”

Keith snorts. “Stop apologizing. I was the one who turned the convo towards you. It’s just natural you continue from it. Not that I expected, well, that.”

Shiro dares to glance at him. Keith’s looking away, the prettiest little blush on his cheeks. He’s biting his lip. “I think I have to think about things. Some things. I’d still like it if you came by once in a while though,” Keith murmurs. He clears his throat and glances back at Shiro who smiles: soft and fond. “Marmora might miss you.”

They both glance at the cat who’s rolled over on her back on the carpet and is clearly fast asleep.

“Looks like it,” Shiro huffs.

“Honest. I’ll even put your mug through the dish washer and bring it back to you. You can show me yours since you’ve seen mine,” Keith murmurs, picking up a wayward thread on his hoodie.

Shiro fidgets. Is it wise? his brain asks. Who cares, his heart answers.

“Okay.”

When he closes his eyes as he goes to sleep that night, he can’t shake away the feeling that something’s shifted irrevocably.


	6. in the dark I heard you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A few peaceful days end in a violent confrontation. Some hugs are shared and some tears are shed. Now healing can begin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw for slut-shaming & slurs because lotor's a piece of crap 
> 
> ahhahah what last angsty chapter what :DDD;;;;;; Lotor refused to let go without a fight, blame him ok 
> 
> this chapter's song: [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0LB5skdDFlE)

Despite Keith’s insistence that Shiro could still visit him while in the middle of this, _thing_ between them, Shiro feels a little apprehensive. He doesn’t ask for Keith’s phone number. He makes sure the boyfriend is not around when he does go ring Keith’s doorbell and spends time scratching Marmora- who seems to have fallen in love with Shiro- and chatting about this and that with Keith.

Keith smiles a little more but his eyes remain sad.

Then there is the day when Shiro hears him arguing with Lotor once more. He listens to Lotor shouting loud enough for the entire floor to hear how he thinks Keith is a whore, how Keith had probably seduced Shiro and everything else that makes Shiro see red.

Yet he doesn’t intervene, remembers the stubborness of Keith’s mouth as he had told Shiro in no uncertain terms that he could handle it.

 _“I don’t want you to get in trouble for punching him or anything,”_ Keith had said, a few days after they had had that first serious talk.

 _“I don’t punch people, no matter how much they piss me off. I would just- say things. You sure you’re okay?”_ Shiro had said, carefully reaching to squeeze Keith’s shoulder.

Keith had scoffed, even tilted his head back all confident and cocky although something in Shiro had told him that right at that moment it had been act _. “Just stay on your lane, Shiro. I’ll handle it.”_

So Shiro had stayed in his lane. He still stays on his lane. He listens to the silence that follows the shouting, ears ringing a bit. He wishes he had Keith’s number by now so he could at least text to ask if he’s okay.

But Keith seems to hate others meddling in his life and business, no matter how much he smiles at Shiro, no matter how many conversations they have about the politics, the weather, their friends- Keith had told him of the only two he calls friends and his co-workers and Shiro had entertained him with stories about the Holts and his other friends-, their music tastes, their movie tastes.

They hadn’t had another conversation like that first serious one, Keith had kept his sorrow at bay and Shiro hadn’t mentioned his feelings again.

He’s aware that Keith’s aware of them now. Keith touches him a little more now, on the shoulder, on the arm, a squeeze, a brush.

Shiro doesn’t ask about Lotor.

Shiro would try his hardest not to meddle if it wasn’t for the time he wakes up in the middle of the night to the sound of Keith and Lotor fighting.

In the goddamn hallway.

“My father is right, you’re nothing but a gold-digging little slut-“

Smack.

Shiro stills, hand on the doorknob. Was that-?  His heart thuds loud in his ears, even his usual aches and pains dulled in the face of this. He feels like a filthy eavesdropper, torn in between intervening and letting Keith handle it.

If that bastard actually hit Keith-

“We’re done,” hisses Keith’s voice, shaking with what Shiro can only imagine to be anger. “We’re done. Don’t ever touch me again. Ever. I’ve told you  time and time again to not speak to me like I’m a hindrance to your fucking life! Just because you didn’t get enough love as a child and have no idea what real, proper sex is and I fucking do doesn’t mean-“ Smack, what’s unmistakably a body stumbling against the wall.

“You don’t walk away from me,” Lotor snarls. “You wouldn’t even have a job or this apartment without me. You’re nothing without me, you whore-!”

Shiro’s breath hitches and he fights with the lock to let himself out. That’s it. He can’t listen to this. He might not be able to fight very well, he doesn’t even want to fight but this needs to stop.

He finally yanks open his door, having completely forgotten that he’s in nothing but his boxers, mind muddy with sleep. “Hey-!”

Lotor’s pushed Keith against the wall, his fingers around Keith’s throat, squeezing hard. Keith’s cheek has a blooming bruise, a trickle of blood down his lip. Keith is gasping, his eyes burning, fingers clawing at Lotor’s wrists. 

“You fucking bitch-“ Lotor’s snarling, thumbs digging into Keith’s trachea.

“Hey!” Shiro steps onwards, reaching for Lotor’s arms. Thank god for one arm that does its job because it yanks Lotor off Keith.

“You! You put this shit about breaking up with me in his head!” Lotor spits the instant he’s pushed from Keith- whose knees buckle and who gasps desperately for air, face gone terrifyingly blue-tinted.

“Get out before I call the fucking cops, asshole,” Shiro snarls, finding it surprisingly easy to dig out old anger. He steps in between Lotor and Keith, pushing the former away. “Get out.”

They all freeze when other doors are opened: there’s Mr Jones, squinting. “Already dialing 911,” he growls, voice dark with sleep. There’s the teenage girl, peeking through her door. “What the fuck guys, we’re trying to sleep here-“ she trails off when she sees Keith rubbing his throat and the bruise on his face.

Lotor takes in the others, eyes narrowed like a snake’s. He’s breathing hard, his luscious long hair a mess. Shiro nearly shudders at his hateful eyes that remain on him even as Lotor straightens.

“My apologies for interrupting your sleep,” he says, eyes boring through Shiro. He reveals a hint of white, white teeth. “You’ll hear from me, Keith. As for you, scarface,” those eyes slip down Shiro’s revealed scars, “you should maybe get that looked at. It might be contagious.”

“Fuck off,” Keith croaks, having stumbled back to his feet. He steps next to Shiro, Shiro’s attention instantly on him. Shiro raises a careful hand, brushing Keith’s back.

“Knew you two were fucking behind my back,” Lotor says, only the angry red spots on his cheeks revealing his earlier outburst. “Better start packing your bags, Keith, you’re not staying in my fucking apartment anymore.” At that Lotor turns on his heel and marches away.

Keith stays upright until the elevator has began to descend with Lotor in it.

“Keith,” Shiro murmurs, his fingers curling around Keith’s shoulder.

“My place, your place, I don’t care. Just. Away,” Keith whispers, his voice rough. His fingers on his throat, his jaw tight when he feels what’s already blooming into a dark bruise.

“I don’t think the cops are needed,” Shiro calls over his shoulder at Mr. Jones who scoffs.

“I just said it so the kid would shut the fuck up,” he says. His small beady eyes squint at Keith who doesn’t look up from the floor. “You gonna be okay there, kiddo?”

Kiddo? Shiro wants to ask. He holds his thoughts and tongue at bay. The shoulder under his hand quivers.

“Thank God Mrs. Jones could sleep through a nuclear war, right?” Keith says.

Mr. Jones huffs. “Right.” He squints at Shiro who feels oddly like he’s under tight scrutiny. “You take care of this one now, kid.”

Not a kid, Shiro wants to say. Instead he says: “Of course. I’m sorry for waking you up.” He glances at the teenage girl’s door but she’s already closed it.

The other doors close on them. Keith lets out a sigh, leaning just enough against Shiro to make Shiro’s heart break.

“Do you have your keys?”

Mutely Keith nods and digs them out, leading them to Keith’s door. Or Lotor’s door, if that asshole is to be believed.

“Do you mind if I fetch some clothes for myself first?” Shiro murmurs, cheeks a little pink. It’s a bit cold in the hallway in just his boxers. He ran out of his apartment in boxers. Fuck.

Keith stills. Then he looks up. He looks Shiro up and down. Then back up to his face. “Oh. Oh.” Keith’s mouth twitches. “You ran out here in just your-“ he snorts, forehead thudding against his door. “My knight in shining… boxers.”

Despite the situation, despite Lotor’s farewell-words, Shiro huffs and scratches his jaw. “It sounded serious.”

“It was,” Keith murmurs and yanks his door open. “It was.”

Shiro has the feeling he’s not talking about the argument. “I’ll be back in a sec. Honest.”

Keith murmurs something inaudible as he shuffles inside.

Shiro turns towards his own still-open door- thankfully he hadn’t slammed that behind himself, then where would they be- and exhales sharply, shoulders relaxing once he’s back inside. His scarred hand trembles enough to hinder him and he sighs, frustrated, anxious as he digs out a sweater and sweatpants, even pulls on socks. He takes his first-aid kit and his keys and locks his door behind himself as he steps back into the hallway.

It’s deafeningly silent.

Keith’s door is still open a crack so Shiro lets himself in. “Keith?”

A muffled answer comes from the bathroom.

Shiro gently pulls the door closed behind himself and murmurs a gentle hello to Marmora who appears overjoyed that he’s back to visit her.

“Not you this time, princess,” Shiro murmurs and gently tugs her away from his way.

Keith’s standing by the sink, grimacing at his reflection. “So much for not looking like a domestic violence-victim,” he murmurs. His voice has slowly returned to almost its usual cadence. Even that slight roughness makes Shiro flinch.

“Oh, Keith,” Shiro whispers and looks at him until Keith turns to face him.

“Am I crazy to feel sad about this?” Keith draws a shaky breath. “He wasn’t always like this. He wasn’t.” Keith’s face scrunches, like he’s going to cry but he holds himself back.

“You were together for a long time,” Shiro can only say. “Can I see?”

Keith nods, seats himself on the toilet seat. “He’s- he’s slapped me before but it was just- he was either just- it wasn’t like this. This is the first time he’s gone this far.” He coughs.

Shiro kneels beside him, laying the first aid kit on the floor. He hopes his hands are warm enough and that Keith isn’t grossed out by the feeling of scar tissue against his skin. “Okay,” Shiro says and gently tilts Keith’s head back.

Keith inhales, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “It’s like- he took care of me for so long, then he just- stopped. I know it’s not my fault and it’s not me, it’s- it’s not me, right?”

Shiro has to close his eyes for a moment. He inhales deep. Takes out his trusty bruise ointment and warms up a tiny amount between his hands. “It’s not you. I don’t know the particulars of your relationship but it’s- there’re two people in a relationship. And from what I’ve seen and heard, he seems to have forgotten that.”

Keith still hisses when Shiro gently rubs the cool salve to his neck and cheek.

“If I may-“ Shiro sighs. “I think he took you for granted for a very long time. Men like that can’t handle it when their precious comfortable lives are disturbed.” Keith’s skin is hot under his fingers. Keith swallows. “Any pain when you swallow?”

“A bit,” Keith mutters. “And you… you’re probably right. Whenever we did anything it was always on his terms. Even that time when you caught us kissing in the hallway wasn’t an accident. He wanted you to catch us.”

Shiro’s fingers still again. “That f-“

“He’s my second boyfriend ever, you know. I don’t even remember the first one anymore.” Keith draws breath. “I’ve been on and off with Lotor since I was seventeen. That’s ten goddamn years.”

Shiro pulls back. Keith doesn’t meet his eyes.

Shiro wets a handtowel and gently dabs at the blood on Keith’s lip. It quivers but still Keith’s cheeks remain dry.

“You don’t get over something like that in an instant,” Shiro murmurs when Keith doesn’t speak again.

Keith nods. “It’s true, you know. That he paid for this apartment.” He draws in breath again, like his lungs are unable to fill up properly. “I work sometimes evenings at the city Archives. The same Archives his father owns.”

“Oh, Keith,” Shiro whispers, pulls back the towel when the last drop of blood from the split lip has vanished.

Keith meets his eyes. “Yet here I am, he threatened to toss me to the street, slut-shamed me although I have never ever cheated on him and I would never, I just like sex and show it and I just- what makes me shake the most aside from this-“ he gestures to his neck, “- is what he said to you.” Keith inhales, exhales.

Shiro remains close, hand on Keith’s thigh. “It’s-“

“Let’s not do that, Shiro. It wasn’t fine. None of it.” Keith speaks like the words fight him with every step of the way on his tongue. “Your scars don’t fucking bother me. I’d rather- rather have spent the last ten years with you than Lotor, no matter how fucking smooth and pretty his skin is.” Keith sniffles.

Shiro’s grip on his thigh tightens, just a bit. “Oh, Keith,” he says again, for the lack of better words.

“I mean it,” Keith draws breath. “I mean, yeah, of course there were good times too but. Were they worth this? To hear that nothing I did was good enough? That he still thinks I was only in it for his money? I loved him. I don’t know when that went away but I- I took him for granted too. I can’t _think_ , Shiro- I-“

“Hey, hey, Keith, let yourself feel this, okay,” Shiro whispers and shifts until he’s close enough to draw Keith from the toilet seat to his arms. Keith grasps him like the last lifeline, fisting Shiro’s sweater in his hands. He shakes, all over. It’s not as much crying as it’s gasping, wordless, soundless ache at something that had been irrevocably broken that night.

Shiro keeps his face against Keith’s shoulder and rubs his back. “You’re safe now, Keith. You’re safe now. I know it hurts, I know your heart’s gotta be breaking, I’m so sorry. You’re safe now, I swear. You’re safe, you’re safe.” Slowly but surely Keith’s death-grip on Shiro loosens, his desperate gasps fading until he’s breathing more normally.

“Hey. Hey there,” Shiro whispers and brushes Keith’s hair from his face.

Keith smiles faintly, tiredly. “You can stay the night,” he murmurs. “I’d prefer if you did.”

“Okay. Anything you want,” Shiro says and tucks long black strands behind Keith’s ears. They’re warm to the touch.

“We’ll talk and shower and shit in the morning, I think,” Keith murmurs and gets both of them up from the floor.

“Just washing our teeth then,” Shiro says and gives Keith’s shoulder a gentle pat. “I didn’t want to presume, but I did bring my toothbrush.”

Keith hums and goes first. He does it mechanically, eyes staring into some faraway place.

Shiro keeps poking himself in the cheek and nose with his toothbrush, all of his focus on Keith.

Somehow they manage to leave the bathroom in one piece.

Marmora meows from one of the armchairs, hopping off so she can walk to them.

“Hey, princess,” Shiro whispers and picks her up. She blinks her huge glowing eyes at him and doesn’t seem to mind when they both crowd her, both of their fingers on her soft, fluffy stomach and head. Their fingers brush, stay connected.

“Thank God Marmora’s all mine,” Keith says.  “Just look at that face. My mood’s lifted instantly.”

He’s standing so close that Shiro nearly startles when he glances over.

Keith isn’t watching Marmora. He’s watching Shiro.

“Bed?” Shiro asks, heart sinking when those beautiful eyes grow shadowed once more.

“Bed,” Keith whispers and in Keith’s bedroom they go: to the minimalist space that seems to live and breathe with Keith’s silence-loving soul. It’s almost too intimate and Shiro nearly backs away, offering to sleep on the armchair- although with his size it would be just ridiculous- but Keith merely pats the space next to him.

“I’d like to not be alone tonight,” Keith whispers.

“Okay,” is all Shiro can say.

Sleep, however, refuses to come instantly. For a moment they stare at the ceiling before turning towards each other, Marmora curling up under Keith’s arm.

“Hey, Shiro.”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

Shiro reaches to brush Keith’s moonlit cheek. Pulls his hand back almost instantly. “You’re welcome, sweetheart.”

He closes his eyes to the sound of Keith’s shuddered breath.

He opens them to find himself close to the edge of the bed, stiflingly warm in his long sleeves and long sweats, an arm wrapped around his waist.

For a moment Shiro lays there, breathing deep. Breathe in. Breathe out. You’re in Keith’s apartment. That’s- that’s Keith’s arm.

“Keith?”

The lump against his back shifts. The arm tightens it hold. Shiro sighs when Keith’s hot puff of air burns against his neck.

“Keith, I need to get up,” Shiro whispers and gently pulls back the arm holding him, carefully turning around to face the sight he would gladly pull down the moon for. Keith, still half-asleep, blinking at him from underneath a curtain of thick black hair, cheek smushed against the pillow.

“Mwha?”

Shiro bites back a smile, letting Keith have his moment of blissful, ignorant half-awakening. He strokes back the hair from Keith’s face, watches as the memory of the night returns to Keith’s sleepy brain. Keith coughs.

“Fuck,” he murmurs and pulls himself back from Shiro entirely. It disturbs Marmora, who’s clearly been sleeping on one of the pillows as she meows loudly in protest of them moving and hops off the bed entirely.

“I’m really warm, I gotta- and I gotta use your bathroom. Sorry,” Shiro says and gets himself up from the bed.

Keith rolls back to his stomach. “The black towel,” he murmurs and clearly falls right back asleep.

Shiro doesn’t let himself watch how the hair curls on Keith’s neck, doesn’t let himself even think about the possibility of Keith wanting anything with him after that.

With a sigh and fingers pushed through his hair, he makes his way to the bathroom. The black towel, clearly straight from the laundry machine, hangs off one of the hooks. Shiro strips his slightly sweat-damp clothes and steps into Keith’s shower.

He keeps the water cool enough to wake him and to clear his head. He keeps his eyes closed but his mind running through various ideas of how to proceed from here. Would Keith even want to press charges? Lotor had left visible bruises. And Shiro’s not even the only witness to Lotor’s words and deeds.

It’s up to Keith, completely.

Shiro reigns back his need to control the situation, to lead, to take care of Keith until Keith no longer has that terrifying defeated expression.

 _It’s not my business to make decisions for him_ , he thinks hard to himself _. I’ll do what he wants me to do. If nothing else, I’ll be his friend._

With that in mind he dries himself, carefully hangs the black towel back to its place and dresses again. He does his usual morning routines and knows he should go back to his place to take his morning meds. He still calls for Keith when he steps out of the bathroom and finds his friend in the kitchen, staring mournfully at his coffee machine.

Marmora meows loudly at his feet.

“I think my machine’s broken,” Keith mutters, throwing a miserable look in Shiro’s direction. “Could you please… please just check it? And feed Marmora, I just. I think I need a shower.” Keith brushes past Shiro to shuffle towards the bathroom.

“Anything you want, Keith,” Shiro says and pats his shoulder as he goes.

He checks the coffee machine. It lets out a puff of coffee-smelling air but does nothing else. Shiro finds Marmora’s cat food and bowl after a moment of opening and closing Keith’s cabinets. She practically screams at him until he’s lowered the bowl down to its place. She quiets down once she starts to munch.

“At least someone has an appetite,” Shiro murmurs and scratches gently between her ears. She pays him absolutely no attention.

He gets to work then on cleaning the kitchen as an idea forms in his head. It all depends on Keith though.

“Whatever he wants, he’s going to get,” Shiro murmurs to himself as he scrubs the tiny kitchen table after he’s pulled the coffee machine from the socket.

Only once he’s done a respectable work and the kitchen counters are gleaming, only then does he straighten. Only to notice Keith standing in the doorway, an indescribable look on his face. His hair drips wet to his t-shirt. In the pale morning light, the bruises on his face and throat look even more deep and dark.

“Uh,” Shiro says. “I had to do something with my hands.”

Keith’s face softens. “Mi casa su casa,” he says.

Shiro smiles at him, hoping it shows every inch of the fondness he feels. “How are you feeling?”

Keith sighs. “Out of it.” His jaw tightens.

“I was thinking- you can bring Marmora and everything- if you wanted to come to mine. I’ll make you breakfast. And I could change.”

Keith shifts. He nods.

“Okay?”

“Okay,” Keith says. “I figured you wanted to talk too. And I- I don’t feel comfortable here right now.”

“Okay,” Shiro says. “Do you want to take Marmora with you? I’m right next door though.”

“It’s fine,” Keith says. “I’d rather not cause her unnecessary anxiety by moving her suddenly to a strange new place.”

“Okay,” Shiro says again, a little helpless suddenly. “Come on then, let me show you my crib.”

The little joke works because Keith cracks a smile. “That was lame.”

“Hi lame, I’m dad,” Shiro says.

Keith nudges him in the ribs. Keith’s hand remains there, a breath longer than appropriate or necessary.

Even that little touch leaves both breathless as they make their way out of Keith’s apartment and into Shiro’s. Keith makes no sound at Shiro’s choice of décor but makes a happy little sound when he sees Shiro’s bookshelves.

“Nice,” he murmurs.

“Mi casa su casa,” Shiro says, nudging Keith towards his living room. Thankfully the layouts of their apartments are almost identical. “I’ll make you something nice. Are you sure swallowing doesn’t hurt so bad you have to go to the doctor’s?”

“I’m sure,” Keith murmurs, already drifting towards the bookshelves. Then he spots the gaming system and Shiro’s dvd-collection and clearly makes himself at home on the sofa.

“Just sit tight, Keith.”

What would Keith like? Those eggs Shiro had made for him in that first morning had gone down easily but maybe that had just been the hangover. With a little sigh Shiro gets to work on making both eggs and tea (for himself) and a nice, warm cup of cappuccino (for Keith). He cuts a nice amount of spring onions and bell peppers, smiles to himself when the eggs shizzle on the pan with the veggies.

The smile fades quickly once he remembers what’s ahead. Is Keith even willing to talk about what’s happened? Because they need to talk about it. Truly and honestly.

Shiro rolls his shoulders and finishes making his eggs. He plates them up and puts everything on one of his trays: most of them gifts from Pidge who finds it hilarious yet adorable that he likes breakfast in bed.

Shiro finds Keith curled up on the sofa with one of Shiro’s blankets, the TV open and an armful of books on the coffee table.

“Find anything you like?” Shiro asks.

“Loads,” Keith says. “Oh, fuck. Coffee. Gimme.” He makes grabby hands long enough that Shiro is chuckling when he lowers the tray on the table.

“All yours, sweetheart.”

Oh fuck.

Keith stills. Shiro freezes. He looks at his companion, apology already on his tongue.

Keith grabs the coffee mug. “I figured you for the pet name-type the first night we met, if I’m honest,” Keith murmurs and takes a sip. He inhales. “Fuck, that hits the spot.”

“I don’t mean to imply-“ Shiro snaps his mouth shut when Keith shakes his head.

“It doesn’t make me uncomfortable.”

“You sure?”

Keith takes another sip. “I know what I feel. About that, at least.”

“Okay.”

“Okay,” Keith smiles. Shiro can’t help but notice how brittle his smile seems.

“Dig in then. We’ll take this one day at a time, okay?”

“Okay,” Keith says again and glances at him.

They eat and drink in relative silence, aside from the TV that’s showing reruns of a Gordon Ramsey-show. They both snicker and gasp occasionally in various parts but mostly both are left to their own thoughts.

Only once the tray and the plates and mugs are empty, the silence seems to deepen.

“So,” Shiro starts, fiddling with the strings of his hoodie.

“I know I promised we’d talk,” Keith says. “But I kinda- I think I need to get myself a little sick leave and go calm down somewhere. My fosters still live in Brooklyn, I might- go there for a while.”

Shiro nods. “Totally understandable.” His heart, his treacherous, idiotic heart sinks. Just a bit.

“I don’t-“ Keith’s jaw tightens. He turns towards Shiro. “I don’t want you to think you have to wait for me or anything. And if Lotor comes back- well, you have my permission to call the cops.” Keith sighs. “One part of me knows this is good for me in the long run but right now I just-“ his face crumbles.

Shiro shifts closer, reaching with his healthier hand to put it around Keith’s shoulders.

Keith shifts closer, lets himself be pulled against Shiro’s chest.

“I think I need to be alone for a while to put my head in order,” Keith whispers.

“I know it sounds like an empty platitude, but I understand,” Shiro murmurs and slides his fingers into Keith’s hair, gently stroking.

“You know? Strangely I think you actually do. Understand. Maybe not completely because you’re not in my head and all but just- you get it.” Keith looks up. Meets Shiro’s eyes. “And you know what else?”

“Yeah?”

“When you told me I am safe- no matter what Lotor says or does from now on- strangely enough I think I am.”

Shiro’s lips tug up. “Yeah?” His heart feels so full.

Keith’s nose wrinkles. “It sounds so cliché now that I say it out loud but I’ve felt safer with you during the few weeks we’ve even talked than with so many others. How do you do it?”

“Do what?”

Keith pinches his cheek.

“Ow,” Shiro whispers, grabbing Keith’s hand and giving it a squeeze.

“Why didn’t I meet you earlier?” Keith inhales, rough and presses his face against Shiro’s shoulder again.

Shiro keeps Keith’s hand in his. “Well. You met me now.”

“That I did, Shiro. That I did.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> also notice the tentative chapter-count. i have a feeling there isn't much else to say at this point though. but i want to add the long-awaited fluffiness D:


	7. I'll be the light that leads you home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith leaves. Shiro pines. But hearts once broken can be mended.

A restlessness settles over the entire floor over the next two weeks. At first Keith refuses to accept Shiro’s help in packing his stuff, even further refuses when Shiro offers to ask his friends to help- but only a few days finds Keith on Shiro’s door, face scrunched and arms crossed, saying he knows where to put his meager belongings and that he has a driver for his things but not quite enough arms.

“They gave me two weeks of sick leave but I already gave in my notice at work and told my university I’m taking a longer break,” Keith admits one night when he and Shiro are packing Keith’s stuff into boxes- and pulling Marmora out of them.

“Okay,” Shiro murmurs, a little surprised at how quick this whole thing is moving on and more than a little saddened that Keith has apparently decided to stay at his foster parents for a good long while.

“You- you get it, right? I don’t want to stay in this apartment anymore.” Keith shifts close enough to nudge Shiro. “I don’t wanna be here when Lotor or any of his father’s lackeys come knocking.”

“I get it,” Shiro says, gives Keith’s shoulder a gentle squeeze. “I’m going to miss you.”

“I could-“ Keith fidgets with a folded hoodie. He unfolds it. Then folds it again. “Give you my number. Since we’re not gonna be neighbours anymore.”

“Wouldn’t that kind of defeat the point of being by yourself?”

Keith huffs. His cheeks are pink: the bruise on the other one already faded. The bruises around his throat are still slightly visible. “No. Yes. But I don’t want to leave you with nothing.”

“Hey, sweetheart,” Shiro shifts his arm around Keith’s shoulders. “You’re not. All I want is for you to find some peace of mind, okay? I want you to think of yourself and just yourself and take as long as you need in finding that peace of mind. Okay?”

The blush has spread to the tips of Keith’s ears. “Stop it,” he mumbles. “Stop being so good. I’m already having a hard time leaving here. Not because of this apartment but because, well, you.”

“I’m sorry?” Shiro shifts to press his mouth against Keith’s temple.

“Stop it,” Keith grumbles. “Go make some tea or something.”

“Or something,” Shiro says and kisses Keith’s temple again, just the slightest brush of lips.

Shiro does go into Keith’s kitchen that’s become more familiar than his own in the past few days. He finds two mugs and chooses to go for something calming.  His scars throb with the usual, dull ache but he ignores it, humming under his breath.

He places the teabags in, adds a slip of honey to Keith’s. Pours the water. Adds two spoons. He continues to hum as he carries the mugs carefully back to Keith’s bedroom to find Keith rummaging through his wardrobe once more.

The apartment has begun to look so stripped and empty that it’s a little freaky. Apparently the armchairs had been Lotor’s. Apparently most of the other furniture had been too so Keith had decided to leave them as they are.

“Keith.”

“Mmmm,” murmurs Keith, poking his head out of his wardrobe. The deep bags under his eyes make Shiro’s heart clench painfully.

“Here you go, sweetheart.”

Keith offers him a little sweet smile and accepts the mug, taking a tiny sip. “You know-“

Shiro seats himself on Keith’s bed, his own mug in his hands. He waits until Keith turns to look at him and speaks again.

“You know. When I come back, I’m going to- if Lotor reaches out to me again. I’m going to file for a restraining order.”

“Okay,” Shiro says. “That’s a sensible decision. You are okay without doing it first? From what I know, it’s a bit of a process but-“

Keith’s jaw tightens and for a moment his eyes get that same awful, defeated darkness that had lingered in them after Lotor’s attack. “I just- I’m not in the headspace to see Lotor again too soon. And yes, I think he’s going to return here or try to reach me again but- I just need to be far away. And my foster father’s a lawyer and he can help me get started.”

“You know you could press charges for assault,” Shiro murmurs carefully.

Keith nods. “Yeah. But it’s just my word and the word of some random nobodies- no offence, Shiro- against the son of Galra corp. I just- if I go away, clear my head and get my restraining order and a new apartment in this city then I’ll be fine.”

“We won’t be neighbours anymore,” Shiro says, mouth a little downturned.

“No, we won’t,” Keith says and sits next to him, his mug cradled between his hands. “Sorry.”

“Oh, shush,” Shiro says and nudges Keith with an elbow.

Keith nudges him back.

They pack the rest of that day’s belongings in relative silence, broken only by a few lighthearted comments.

Neither approaches the subject of Keith going away for a while.

x

The day before Keith’s departure they drag his belongings out of the apartment into a waiting truck- Keith’s co-worker Thace, a man with an impressive goatee and very impressive broad shoulders- in the middle of friendly introductions and a flustered Keith, who seems almost near-tears when both Holts hug him at the end of it, rubbing his back and offering their well wishes to him.

Pidge even moves Marmora and all of her belongings to Shiro’s apartment and Matt is completely infatuated with her, keeping her in his arms through the entirety of the evening after the silent Thace and Keith had driven away towards the city storage. Apparently that had been Keith’s solution to the problem of his things and he had absolutely refused to accept any monetary help for it, despite still having to pay one month’s rent of his apartment.

The Holts and Shiro retreat to his apartment for drinks and pizza.

“Should we wait for them to come back before ordering though?” Matt asks, hand already on his phone.

“Nah,” says Pidge and cracks open a cider.

Like this, with Pidge’s hair short and dressed in the almost exact same t-shirt and jeans-combo, she and Matt could be twins. It’s a little eerie to Shiro who surveys his friends with equal parts gratitude and frustration.

“Thank you for not crowding him with questions,” Shiro says.

“We’re not assholes,” Pidge says and takes a good long sip. “And besides, nobody who’s gone through a shitty break-up deserves to be hounded. And besides, he couldn’t have asked for a better caretaker. You’re a regular mom friend, Shiro.” She grins.

Shiro tosses one of his decorative pillows at her which she dodges without spilling any of her cider. How does she do it, Shiro’s never quite understood.

“Also thank you for not asking more than what I could tell you,” Shiro says. “I knew I could count on you two.”

“Aw,” Matt says, already downed his first beer.

“Aw,” Pidge echoes. “Also don’t worry, we’ll get out of you and lover boy’s hair the moment the pizza’s eaten. Also, order already, brother.”

“Fine,” Matt huffs and takes out his phone again. They rattle their favourites to Matt. Shiro takes a wild guess at what Keith might like: if it doesn’t hit right then at least Keith will have loads of choices.

They spend time chatting and drinking and waiting for their pizzas. Shiro’s first and only beer has already gone a little lukewarm and gross by the time the doorbell rings. Marmora instantly meows loudly and runs to the door.

“So hecking cute,” Matt whines.

“We’re never getting a cat though,” Pidge says, unnecessarily loud. “I think there are enough cat dads around. I mean, look at Shiro’s face.”

Shiro’s face that currently holds a rather fascinating amount of affection as he opens the door to Keith.

“Hi,” Shiro whispers, a little breathless again.

“Hi,” Keith whispers back, a small smile on his face. “Did you guys order for me too?”

“Of course,” Pidge yells from the sofa. Marmora’s jumped on her stomach and is currently pawing at it with all her might. “Fuck this gal loves me.”

Shiro is aware of how pink his cheeks are, how the hand he lays on Keith’s back quivers, just a bit. He helps Keith out of his jacket and scarf rather unnecessarily and leads him to the kitchen.

“I hope they haven’t made you uncomfortable at any point,” Shiro says as he digs out a beer for Keith who carefully accepts it and opens it.

“No. It’s good that you have such nice friends,” Keith murmurs after taking a sip. “Oh, damn. I’m really not a beer-person.”

Shiro chuckles. “Sorry. You don’t have to drink it.”

“I haven’t sat down with a group of friends. I think- ever. I didn’t even go to parties when I was underage. I want to. Isn’t this something I’ve been missing?”

“Not really,” Shiro murmurs and can’t help but laugh when Keith makes a face.

“I know how to get drunk but like, it’s always been with Lotor and his friends. Never mine. Thace is the only one from work who I think I’m going to stay in contact with and he’s the type to sip wine and talk philosophy,” Keith mutter s as Shiro leads him back to the living room.

Shiro snorts.

Keith elbows him in the ribs.

x

Later evening finds both of them in Shiro’s bed; Keith rather comfortably curled under the blanket, back turned towards his friend.

“I’m-“ _going to miss you. I’ll miss you. I’d prefer if you stayed here with me._ “-happy you’re taking time for yourself, Keith,” Shiro whispers.

The lump that is Keith shifts. “I’m happy and sad about it,” he huffs.

Shiro laughs. “What contradictions we people are.”

“Mmm,” says Keith. “Thanks for letting me stay here, Shiro.”

“Anything for you, sweetheart. Good night.”

“Night.”

x

Shiro dreams about a kiss, about stargazing and wonders if his parents still have his old  telescope. Of course they do: they have barely thrown away anything from Shiro’s childhood.

Shiro wakes to the sound of Marmora’s inquisitive little noises, his shoulders shaking with muffled laughter when she pushes his cheek with her paw, like to check if he’s awake.

“Please, princess, I’m an old man. Give me five minutes.”

Marmora begins to purr when she notices his opened eyes and feels his fingers gently stroking her fur.

“She loves you so much.”

Shiro’s hand stills. It continues to stroke Marmora again after Shiro has taken a deep, deep breath. He closes his eyes again. “Yeah. I think you’re losing your cat dad-privilege, Keith.”

Keith snorts. “Don’t you go stealing my cat, you criminal.”

I’d rather steal your heart, Shiro’s brain offers. He bites the inside of his cheek. “She’s all yours, sweetheart.” The pet name slips from his tongue with almost frightening ease. Each time he fears Keith’s refusal of it, each time he fears Keith will just see Lotor in him and push away.

Each time Keith merely ducks his head and laughs or just has that sweet flush on his sharp cheekbones.

Goddammit, but Shiro is in love.

He’s still thinking of it, that revelation that’s not a revelation as they get up and go brush their teeth. Shiro’s still thinking of _love, love, love_ when he watches Keith as they make breakfast. Shiro’s distracted enough that he spills coffee on his hand.

“Shiro-“ Keith huffs, frowning even as Shiro flexes his fingers in the sink, under running cold water. At least it was his scarred hand and not the other one. Would have probably hurt a little more with that.

“I don’t know where my mind is this morning,” Shiro murmurs and watches the water cascade over his skin: the raised white lines running like veins on his skin. It no longer disgusts him, the sight of his scars, but he still feels the telltale thud of anxiety at someone else feeling so.

“I hope it’s not me,” Keith says and gently pulls Shiro’s hand by the wrist to himself, drying it with a couple of paper towels. “Sorry. If you’re worrying about me.”

Shiro swallows hard when Keith’s own smooth fingers curl over Shiro’s palm. “Don’t apologize, please,” Shiro murmurs. He carefully takes Keith’s hand between his own and raises it to his lips. “Worrying about those I care about is natural to me.”

“Okay then,” Keith huffs and pulls his hand back but his cheeks are pink. “Okay.”

They look at each other, Shiro’s head tilted, Keith nibbling his lip. “Then you have my permission to worry about me.”

Shiro snorts. He reaches to brush Keith’s cheek. “Thanks.”

Keith sticks out his tongue at him. Shiro bites back the need to stick his back and instead rolls his eyes, fondly reaching to ruffle Keith’s delightfully messy morning-hair. Keith shoves at him. Shiro grabs him by the shoulders and pulls him close enough to press a little kiss to the top of his head.

They’re both a little too nervous to spend a particularly calm morning, Keith drops his bag on his toes once and Shiro changes his shirt three times.

“What time was your flight leaving again? Should we be going already?” Shiro shouts from his bedroom.

“We should be! I just need to find Marmora!” Keith shouts back.

Shiro opens his mouth to reply when he hears a soft meow.

“Meow?” He crouches and glances under his bed.

Marmora’s huge eyes stare at him without blinking.

 “Hey, princess. You probably realize it but it’s about time to go.” Shiro tries to beckon. He tries the usual noises.

Marmora doesn’t move an inch.

“Hey Keith! She’s in here!”

Marmora stares. Shiro stares back. He doesn’t shift even when Keith crouches by the other side of the bed.

“Oh, baby, we gotta go. It’s not even a long flight but we gotta go. I know you hate the box but come on. You remember Bran and Anne, yeah? Their house is nice. They don’t even have any other animals so it’s just gonna be you and me and them.” Keith shakes the treat-bag. Marmora blinks slowly and sneaks towards it, sniffing curiously.

“Good girl,” Keith smiles and gives her a treat that she chows down in a matter of seconds. Before she can run away, Keith grabs her with practiced ease and ignores her offended meows.

After wrangling Marmora into her box and himself into a jacket and gloves and a red beanie, Keith follows Shiro to the elevator and to the parking lot. Neither speaks as they put Keith’s bag into the trunk and push Marmora’s box onto the backseats.

Whatever lightheartedness there was in the morning has gone as quickly as it came: now Shiro glances over at Keith from time to time, opening his mouth to speak, then closing it when he notices Keith’s tightened jaw.

Marmora meows from the backseat, scratching at her box’s door. Keith pulls his beanie further down, his hair sticking out from underneath it in every direction.

“Keith, I-“ Shiro finds a parking spot easily enough and stops the car. “Do you want me to wait with you?”

Keith fidgets for a moment, then looks up and nods. They get his bag and Marmora and drag both inside the entrance to the airport and from there, to the right terminal.

“It’s time to say bye to Shiro, honey,” Keith murmurs to Marmora once they nearly reach the check-out. “I gotta go process her and my bag.”

Shiro smiles, aware of how something in his eyes has begun to sting. He crouches by Marmora’s box and gently pokes her nose. “See you again, princess. Have fun in Brooklyn. I hope you remember me when we see again.” Marmora licks his fingertip and meows, eyes wide.

Shiro stands up. “I’ll wait right here.” His heart thuds. Keith’s leaving, Keith’s leaving, Keith’s leaving. Shiro sticks his hands into his pockets.

Keith nods.

When Shiro blinks, Keith’s gone. Shiro runs his hands through his face and sighs, shoulders slumping. He digs out his phone and fiddles with it, checks through his Facebook-feed. Checks through his Twitter-feed. Checks the weather. Checks the news. Glances up. Checks the news again. Glances up.

He stands up when he sees Keith shuffling back to him, beanie clearly stuck into his pocket.

“Coffee?” Shiro asks, more than a little desperate to see Keith smiling one last time.

“Of course. That’s the better one of these cafés,” Keith murmurs and points to the little place just by the check-out-lines, currently mostly empty.

Keith’s shoulders are a little slumped. Shiro places a careful hand on his back and rubs. Maybe he doesn’t entirely imagine the way Keith leans against it.

“I’ll pay,” Shiro says once they reach the counter.

“Shiro-“

“Consider it a gift from your soon-to-be former neighbour.” Shiro gently nudges Keith, until Keith huffs.

“Fine. Get me a mocha then. I’ll go sit down.”

Shiro smiles and nods. He’s still smiling as he turns to the patiently waiting elderly lady behind the counter and orders their drinks.

“You’re not the only couple I’ve seen sending each other off or paying for last drinks,” the lady says compassionately as she processes their orders and begins to make them.

“Uh, we’re not- not a couple,” Shiro says, scratching his cheek. He glances back at Keith, noticing that Keith has dug out his phone and is fiddling absent-mindedly with it.

“Oh, lord, I’m sorry. I just assumed since you two seemed close,” the lady says, offering him an apologetic smile. “It’s like watching my son and his boyfriend again before they got married.”

Shiro huffs. “We’re close.” He glances back again. Keith looks up and waves at him. Shiro waves back.

The lady’s watching them, first pushing Shiro’s cappuccino onwards, then Keith’s mocha. “Can I give you a piece of advice, son?”

Shiro blinks. “Yes?”

The lady smiles at him, so warm and so understanding that Shiro’s composure nearly starts to crack. “I think it would do you good to tell him how you feel. Call it life experience or whatever, but I know love when I see it.”

Shiro huffs. “I’m sure you do, miss.” His own smile feels brittle. “For what it’s worth, I think he already knows. Have a good day.”

“You too,” the lady says and turns her compassion to elsewhere.

Shiro carries their drinks to Keith who sighs happily when he gets his first whiff of chocolatey coffee-deliciousness.

Shiro spends more time watching Keith than drinking his own cappuccino. Keith notices, of course, and looks away first.

“Oh, right. The phone number,” Keith murmurs and pushes his phone towards Shiro. “Can I have yours?”

“You sure?”

“I want some way to keep in touch with you. I don’t want to cut you off entirely,” Keith says. He licks a droplet of his mocha from his lips. Shiro follows the movement helplessly.

“Okay. Okay.” He takes out his own phone, unlocks it and pushes it to Keith. They tap each other’s numbers into each other’s phones.

“Just…” Keith sighs and puts his phone into airplane-mode. “Don’t expect me to answer all the time. Or sometimes at all.”

“Of course.”

“I do want to come back here. One day.”

“Of course.”

Keith makes a face at him. “Shiro.”

Shiro brushes his cheek. “Is my name.”

Keith flicks his forehead. “Stop it.”

Shiro grins, fights back against the sting of sorrow in his eyes and the familiar dull of his stupid, stupid body. “I want to commit your grumpy cat-expressions to my memory.”

Keith gapes at him for a moment, his mocha already mostly forgotten and half-drunk. “You’re so-“

“Wonderful?”

“More like, like.” Keith huffs. “You’re making me want to stay.”

 _Then stay._ “It will do you good to get out of this city,” Shiro murmurs. He downs the rest of his drink in one go. Keith follows suit.

“Yeah, I know. I know.” Keith swallows. “I’ll find you on Facebook or something. Dunno why I haven’t friended you over there yet. You have one, right?”

“Yep.”

“Good.”

They sit side by side in silence for a moment then: Keith watches the airport buzzing around them. Shiro watches Keith.

“I really like you, you know,” Keith says as he finally looks back at Shiro. His eyes, the same beautiful eyes that Shiro had noticed so early on, are dim.

“I like you too,” Shiro says and takes Keith’s hand in his own.

“I said I didn’t want you to wait for me or anything or put your life in hold in waiting for me to get my shit back together but-“ Keith bites his lip and leads them away from the chairs, towards the stairs leading up to the gates. “But.”

Shiro takes Keith’s other hand in his own too, certain by now that Keith will never act with disgust towards his gnarly, scarred hand.

“I want-“ Keith swallows. He takes a step closer. His eyes are wet.

Shiro’s eyes are wet.

“It’d kill me if you found someone else while I’m gone. I know it’ s selfish but-“ Keith takes a deep, shuddering breath. He grips Shiro’s hands tight.

“Focus on yourself,” Shiro whispers. “It’d kill me if you came back just for me before you’re ready.”

Keith huffs, his smile coming and going in an instant. “Stop being so understanding.”

“Sorry.”

“You have never been less sorry in your life.”

“Not true,” Shiro murmurs and pulls Keith into his arms. Keith clutches him back, grabbing hard at the back of Shiro’s jacket.

“I can’t tell you to not think of me or Lotor or anything when you’re there,” Shiro says, squeezing his eyes closed, sliding his fingers into Keith’s hair. “But I can tell you to please think of yourself too. Your foster parents sound like good people. I hope they can take care of you when I can’t. I hope _you_ take care of yourself.”

Keith has tucked his face against the crook of Shiro’s neck. The damp spot is spreading but Keith is making no sound other than his words, muffled and small: “I’ll do my best. Send me a text from time to time. I do want to hear from you, okay?”

“Anything for you, sweetheart,” Shiro whispers, strokes Keith’s hair. His heart is tightening. “Anything.”

“Fuck,” groans Keith and pulls himself back from the embrace. He’s wiping his eyes furiously and Shiro gives him that moment to breathe, still keeping his hands on Keith’s arms.

“It’s okay,” he says.

“No,” Keith says. “It’s going to be. But it’s not okay. Right now.”

Shiro nods.

Keith glances at him, then over his shoulder at the clock. “Oh-“

Shiro’s heart shrivels and tightens and tightens. “You’ll be fine, sweetheart. I’ll be here.”

Keith sniffles but he pulls his shoulders back and stands up straighter. “Okay. Okay.”

Shiro leans forwards to kiss Keith’s forehead, lets out a startled little huff when Keith yanks his head down and- Keith’s lips are very dry as they press against Shiro’s cheek.

“See you when I see you, Shiro,” Keith whispers.

“See you when I see you, Keith,” Shiro whispers back.

x

Shiro has no idea how he makes it back to his apartment.

x

Shiro has no idea how he makes himself presentable for work the next week. He hasn’t dared to use Keith’s number. Or take Keith on his offer to look him up on Facebook.

_Give him space, give him space, give him space._

Shiro meets his friends. Shiro goes to the gym and ignores the thud-thud-thud of his limbs. Shiro goes for walks. He goes jogging. He goes out drinking. He even meets Allura and Lance, playfully bantering and kissing like a pair of proper newlyweds anyway and ignores the sting in his own heart.

Shiro doesn’t go looking for someone else. Not while his heart is burning for Keith.

A month passes before he gets a text from Keith. It’s nothing but a picture of Marmora, curled up on what looks like a large, white couch. The caption reads: _The Queen has declared this as her kingdom._

Just those few words are enough to lift Shiro’s spirits. He replies with a string of smiley-faces and a few hearts.

Keith doesn’t answer but Shiro knows he’s read it.

Another week passes. And another. Shiro sends Keith little pictures of his life, brief messages to inform Keith he’s still here and still kicking. Keith rarely answers but the little Read on top of the string of messages makes Shiro smile.

When Keith answers, it’s usually with a picture of Marmora, curled up in various positions in various places.

Shiro hopes with all of his heart that Keith is letting himself heal.

After two and a half Keith-less months, after two and a half of agonizing ache in Shiro’s heart and after two and a half months of listening to his friends tell him to just stop looking like a kicked puppy when someone mentions the word love around him: after that time Keith sends something else.

_Started the process of getting a restraining order. Have officially lost my job and the apartment. Too bad I got the upper-hand on them for the latter._

_Slept the whole night for the first time in forever._

x

Shiro’s heart aches and aches and aches.

He goes to his work. He dreams about Keith. He meets his friends. The apartment next to his stays empty, nothing but a reminder of what was.

Shiro goes to work. Shiro dreams about Keith.

His heart aches and aches and aches.

x

The little tidbits about Keith’s recovery-process are not enough. Not even Keith’s apparently rarely-updated Facebook-page is enough. Shiro still goes to check it once a day, lingering on the few photos of Keith there are, none of them featuring his friends. One featuring an apparently beloved motorcycle that’s in Brooklyn judging by the caption.

 After three months, Keith updates.

_Keith Kogane is Single._

Shiro allows himself a smile and a Like. No matter what kind of a shit boyfriend Lotor had been, the man had still had an incredible amount of power over Keith.

His friends- everyone from the Holts to Allura and Lance- had all sent Keith friend-requests that Keith had apparently accepted.

That status-update gets a few likes and no frowny-faces whatsoever. Even if no one but Shiro and Keith know the whole truth, the others know enough to realize that it’s better for Keith this way.

Shiro hopes Keith is talking to other people.

Shiro hopes Keith is thinking about him.

x

His heart aches and aches and aches.

When four months have passed, Shiro begins to hope for Keith’s return.

He knows he told Keith not to return because of him and only to return when Keith feels he’s ready. But Shiro can’t tell his own heart to quiet down.

He sends a text to Keith, reading just: _I hope you’re taking good care of yourself._

Keith doesn’t answer.

x

Four months and four days and nine hours. Not that Shiro’s been keeping count.

x

Four months and four days and nine and a half hours. Shiro’s in the middle of dinner, digging into his rice and composing a few messages for his parents when his doorbell rings.

It no longer gives him a jolt. His friends had been coming and going by so often that he had begun to feel a little anxious. Maybe it’s the Holts today. Or Ulaz. Or- Shiro’s thoughts stutter to a halt when he hears an unmistakable meow as he closes on his door.

Meow?

Shiro takes a deep breath. He unlocks the door.

“Hi.”

Shiro’s lips turn up. “Hi.”

Keith puts down his overnight bag and Marmora’s box and says nothing else. He steps forward and places one warm hand on Shiro’s arm. Are Keith’s shoulders a little bit straighter? Is his hair longer? Are his eyes brighter?

“You’re back,” Shiro whispers, suddenly out of breath, his lungs emptied at the sight of Keith. As beautiful as always before.

“If you’ll have me,” Keith whispers, fingers curling tight around Shiro’s bicep.

“Nothing would make me happier,” Shiro says and pulls him close. Finally, finally, finally. His eyes are stinging as he squeezes them closed. His arms are quivering when he wraps them around Keith’s waist. He feels Keith’s arms do the same.

“Shiro,” Keith whispers. “Shiro. Shiro.”

Shiro squeezes him tighter. “You look better,” he murmurs once they break apart, just enough to see each other’s eyes.

“I feel better,” Keith says. His smile reaches his eyes. His hands reach Shiro’s face, cupping it. “I have better dreams now.”

“Good, good,” Shiro whispers, grabbing Keith’s hands and kissing his palms, his knuckles, his wrists, unable to hold back his overflowing affection anymore.

“I wanted to return almost a month ago but my therapist and my fosters talked me out of it, I just-“ Keith’s breath hitches. “- wanted to desperately see you. Being away was good, I know it now but it made me miss you. God, I missed you.”

“You too,” Shiro says. “So much.”

“Shiro,” Keith says, returns to stroking Shiro’s face with gentle fingers. “Do you- do you still feel the same? Do you still like me?”

Shiro takes a deep breath but his heart refuses to calm down. “I’d need a lifetime to stop feeling the same, sweetheart. I adore you more than words can say.”

Keith inhales sharply, his teeth digging into his lip. “Will you have me? As I am?”

Shiro looks at him, really looks. Takes in his deep dark eyes, the curl of his hair over his ears. “If you’ll have me as I am, sweetheart.”

Keith makes a little, choked noise. “You were the only thing that remained constant in my head over the four months. I realized if I came back and you were infatuated with someone else, I- I don’t know what I would have done.”

“How could I? When my heart beats this hard with you?”

Shiro gently tugs Keith’s hand to his throat, puts those fingers to his pulse.

Keith’s lips are wet and parted, his cheeks flushed. “Shiro,” he says, breathless.

“You can call me Takashi,” Shiro says. “If you want-“

“Takashi,” Keith breathes out, his fingers sliding behind Shiro’s neck. “Takashi.”

“Keith,” Shiro whispers. “Can I take care of you?”

“Anything for you, sweetheart,” Keith whispers and then he’s leaning onwards, swallowing Shiro’s chuckle with a kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and that's all i've got for this particular story! it ended up being so much less fluffy than i meant for it to be lmaoo... sorry... 
> 
> but i hope the ending works for u guys
> 
> i read all the comments and i try to answer all of them and know that it makes me really really really unspeakably happy to get them. i appreciate the kudos and bookmarks and all but please tell me what you thought of this little ficlet. 
> 
> ps. you should totally check out my other sheith-things ;)


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